The Winter of our Discontent
by vanhunks
Summary: New Chapter added. A J/C story. In which Mark Johnson is not a pleasant man. Soon after their return home, Kathryn's new-found intimate relationship with Chakotay is seriously tested when Mark Johnson interferes. Some angst but not entirely dark. Readers are requested to read the INTRODUCTION to the story as it's based on an old, lost story. This part: CHAPTER SEVEN
1. Discontent

THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT

_by vanhunks_

a reworking of "And the muses shall sing" by Grace from Cleveland

a story for Janeway and Chakotay

IMPORTANT NOTICE

This story is a reworking of a story that appeared as an "UNABLE TO LOCATE" story on the old J/C Message board and later on the VAMB [Voyagerangel Message Board]. Here is the posting on VAMB for this "Lost Story".

This had been posted and reposted on the JC message board and no one has found it yet.- sooooo here you go -tell us where it is.

_"They get home. C/7 not together (never happened). Last night on board J/C make love. He thinks they will be together always. J made Admiral. C made Captain. At reception for all of Voyager, Mark comes. He and J goes to her office to talk. He forces her to have sex with him. C walks in on them and thinks she was willing. He calls her a ***** (and a lot more) and walks out. He takes a demotion to get on another ship right away and takes off on a two or three year mission. However, J is pregnant with his child. The ship that C is on gets overtaken and all are made slaves. Starfleet feels that the only ones that can save them are Voyager and it's old crew. They send J and crew after them."_

This search has been ongoing since 2005. After contacting the author through a third person, I was informed that the story would NOT be available on the 'net. I believe the author has since passed on as she was already in her seventies at the time of writing the story.

The original title was "And the muses shall sing", by Grace from Cleveland. **In a new reworking** of the **short blurb** I could only use the ideas given in the short description and tried at best to give "life" to the outline. While the outline and "And the muses shall sing" remain the work of Grace, **"The winter of our discontent" using the same outline is now a new story by me.**

All credit first of all to the author whose story created such a vast and indepth search on the old J/C Message Board and Voyagerangel Message Board [VAMB], mostly because everyone found the premise so intriguing.

The story has not yet been betaread, so all errors and minor typos are mine. It remains largely a work in progress so I welcome all comments and ideas from readers.

**vanhunks**

**September 2014**

DISCLAIMER: Characters Janeway, Chakotay, Mark Johnson, Owen Paris, the _USS VOYAGER _belong to Paramount. New characters created for the story are my own.

RATING: [PG-13] [T]

PAIRING: J/C

SUMMARY: Soon after returning home Kathryn's new found happiness with Chakotay is cruelly tested when Mark Johnson interferes.

**THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT**

**PROLOGUE**

_It is injustice to determine the brutality of an action because of the victim or the criminal."  
><em> ― M.F. Moonzajer

**Alpha Quadrant 2378 - The office of Admiral Janeway**

Her mind had been on Chakotay all day. He'd gone to the Yucatan to meet with Senora Mercedes Mendoza, an author who was recording the chronicles of the people of Dorvan. He had been enthusiastic in collaborating on a chapter, but too eager to be back. "I miss being in your arms..." he'd said before he left at 0500. She'd given him a peck on the cheek and virtually chased him away from her apartment. "When I return, Kathryn Janeway" he promised as he departed, "I'm going to marry you!"

Sighing blisfully, chin resting on her hand, Kathryn kept staring at the framed picture of Chakotay on her desk. It was taken when they'd been on New Earth and he'd been open and enthusiastic and persuasive about creating a home for them there. Her eyes softened. When Voyager returned for them, it had been hard to hide her disappointment.

It had been more than a thrilling journey through the Borg's transwarp conduit, for as soon as they were in the Alpha Quadrant and had managed to bring order to a chaotic ship, she'd spontaneously blurted in his quarters, "I love you, Chakotay. I really cannot imagine how I could have made this journey without you."

She'd fought back threatening tears, waiting for a response, fearful he'd not believe her. Her hand had flown to her mouth and she'd closed her eyes. Several heady moments later she felt his hand gently removing hers, to kiss her with such a reverent air that she couldn't prevent scalding tears running down her cheeks.

Somewhere during that night of tangled sheets and intimate discovery he'd whispered, "I have loved you forever, even when you weren't mine to love."

Kathryn lifted the picture and kissed the cool glass, on his tattoo of the Rubber Tree People. She hoped to see him sooner than he'd promised. He'd told her, "And please, don't give that Johnson your time of day!"

They had a reception for the Voyager crew last night, attended by dignitaries and curious other individuals who had probably either gatecrashed or had friends in high places. Mark Johnson was one of them. He'd arrived and had been the picture of cordiality. He'd slipped away from his Mars vacation with his family to attend the reception, "Mainly, of course, to see you, Kathryn." She had greeted him and exchanged some pleasantries, pleased that he and Wanda were blessed with two little boys. Last night she also realised how little she had really loved Mark Johnson, how she had clung to his image on Voyager mainly to protect her betraying heart. Mark remained in her orbit, something that made her frown even though she kept up pleasantries with him, not wanting to offend him by leaving his side abruptly.

She'd noticed Chakotay hovering nearby, a scowl on his face when Mark had stood too close to her. This morning he'd apologised for acting like a boor, stating again how he didn't trust Mark Johnson around her. "Didn't you notice how he looked at you? Like he didn't have a loving wife and kids...?"

She was still deep in thought when her door chimed. Frowning, she placed the picture back on her desk. She wasn't expecting anyone. Chakotay was off to the Yucatan, she had no aide yet who could disturb her. She had the rest of the day off.

"Come."

The door opened, the tall imposing figure stepped inside, a broad smile on his face.

"Mark! I thought you'd be back on Mars by now! Your family must be missing you!"

"Enjoyed seeing you last night. Thought I'd come by before I left," he responded as he stepped right up against her desk, planting his hands on the gleaming surface. He leaned forward and gazed directly into her eyes.

Kathryn was suddenly glad of the barrier. Mark's smile had gone, replaced by a serious, probing look. She frowned. Was something the matter with him? she wondered. Did he lie to his wife about visiting Earth on some philosophical pretext? Mark had married Wanda Bellamy three years after Voyager went missing in the Badlands. She had received his letter, saddened but not really that surprised by his decision. She'd told Chakotay that Mark had decided to move on with his life. She had shrugged philosophically then, saying that Mark had been a safety net. She realised only now how much of a safety net Mark had been, a feeling that filled her with some regret that she had used him. If she hadn't clung to that idea so rigidly on Voyager, she would have had a harder time holding off a man like Chakotay, infinitely more dangerous, more rugged, and a far, far greater threat to her sensibilities. She realised now how futile it had been anyway. She had given herself to Chakotay heart, body and soul.

Now Mark looked at her as if he had unfinished business.

"Something wrong, Mark?" she ventured.

He gazed at her for long moments, eyes narrowed, lips compressed, discomfort lodging itself in the pit of her stomach. This was not the Mark she'd known for so long - the old friend, the kind-hearted, generous, always considerate man who took care of her dog while she was gone. She experienced a deep flutter inside her, unable to decide whether it was imagining Mark had some terrible calamity happen to him or just plain fear of something unthinkable about to happen.

"Kathryn," he began, the register of his voice so low and hoarse that even that sounded alien to her. He closed his mouth again, appearing almost uncertain about his next words.

"What is it, Mark? You sound strange."

_And you're acting weird_, she thought.

"You were gone seven years."

"Yes, I was, and so were a hundred and forty of my crew. Yet, here we are," she ventured again, frowning. "Mark, where is this conversation going?"

"I married Wanda three years after Voyager disappeared."

"I understand. You moved on. I accepted that."

By this time Kathryn had risen to her feet, for Mark had moved around the desk, closer to her. If she didn't know him as a kind and generous man, she would have thought his movement like that of a predator. He held her shoulders, pressing closer. She frowned heavily.

"You're in my space, Mark."

She tried to push him forcefully away, to dislodge his grip on her shoulder. He didn't seem penitent that he had overstepped the boundary. In fact, he smiled. It was a different smile this time, a strange energy projecting from him. For a moment Kathryn considered calling security, to hit her commbadge. But he was Mark Johnson, her lifelong friend and sometime lover. She tried pushing him away again, but hs grip tightened. His eyes, she noticed for the first time, were a little bloodshot.

"Let go of me!" she ordered. "You're hurting me!" She was unable to move her hands to reach her commbadge, to call security.

"I could never forget you, Kathryn! You were always there, in my dreams, in all my waking moments, in my sleeping moments, everywhere! I thought I could forget you. I tried hard! But the minute I married Wanda I realised my mistake. It was as if she triggered all the feelings I had for you."

"You can not be serious! You are betraying your wife!"

Mark gripped her, pulling her face closer to his, and he was rolling.

"Even when we made love, your image kept intruding. I thought I could get over you. I loved you and hated you for it! Hated you! My marriage, Kathryn, is ruined, because of you!"

"For God's sake, don't do anything you will regret, please!"

"I have to taste you again, my love, or I shall go mad."

Mark's lips bore down on hers. Something, of an anger, or an outrage, or just plain surprise exploded behind her eyelids as she tried desperately to push him away. She tried again to hit her commbadge, but Mark was too quick for her. He deftly plucked it from her chest and threw it on the floor, banging his boot down hard on it.

"Mark, are you insane!?" Kathryn gasped in outrage.

"No!...yes! I am insane, I am mad, mad about you still. I haven't forgotten the taste of your body!"

He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her over the desk in a movement so sudden that she cried out in surprise, the picture of Chakotay flying and landing with a crash on the floor. Kathryn, too stunned, reacted too late. His nails dug into her neck, cutting off her air supply. She tried to scream, but whatever sound she tried to make could not have alerted anyone in the adjacent offices. They'd think she and Chakotay...

She tried kicking, but already he was tugging away at her pants, one hand over her mouth and the other scoring her skin as he pulled it free. Tears spilled from her as she felt the cold air on her skin. She couldn't scream. Already he was pressing himself between her splayed thighs.

She fought in vain while he plundered her body. All she could think of was one beloved voice, one beloved face, come to deliver her from a terrible ordeal.

_"Chakotay..."_

That moment her door opened.

END PROLOGUE

**TBC -**

email: vanhunks 


	2. CHAPTER 1

**CHAPTER ONE:**

**Three years later... Starfleet Headquarters**

Lieutenant Adessi Uhura, aide to Admiral Kathryn Janeway, was extremely wary of her. The admiral's usually stern features which made her jump every time Janeway spoke, had turned even harder today. Adessi thought Admiral Janeway a beautiful woman whose features were marred by a deep inner pain. How else could it be but pain? She had been the admiral's aide for the past two years and never once had Kathryn Janeway actually smiled at her. Never once had she heard the admiral laugh in the presence of other admirals whenever they were locked together in a conclave. Only sometimes she caught the admiral looking pensively at the framed photograph on her desk. Then the eyes would sadden again.

Once, she had asked her best friend Noah Lessing whether Admiral Janeway ever spared anyone a friendly word or two. Noah had gone silent after she had asked that question. Then his doe-like brown eyes had softened before he spoke. He told her how he had been afraid of Admiral Janeway in the beginning, how later, after gaining her trust, his heart melted whenever she graced him with a friendly smile. And, he said, she had smiled often in those days, reserving her very best smiles for the Commander. "Of course," he added, "she was Captain Janeway then, and what a captain!"

Now, PADD in hand, Adessi, a tall Maasai woman, trembled a little as she entered Admiral Janeway's office. She stood waiting just inside the door while the admiral was poring over stacks of PADDs on her desk. It was the annual review for new recruits to the Academy as well as new commissions to three new vessels travelling to the Gamma Quadrant with various agendas. Many of the hopefuls were to be interviewed by the admiral herself. Adessi shuddered. She pitied the poor devils who would have to face an unsmiling admiral.

"Why are you lounging there, Lieutenant?" Janeway asked without looking up. "If you can step forward without thinking I'm going to bite you, then do so. What is it?"

"Communication from Admiral Ponsonby, Admiral."

Kathryn Janeway looked up sharply, then frowned heavily as she took the PADD from Adessi and started reading.

"Ponsonby..."

Adessi couldn't help noticing the change of colour in Admiral Janeway's cheeks, or the way her eyes softened a little. She knew that the quiet-spoken Admiral Ponsonby was married to the admiral's mother, that they had married shortly before Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant.

Adessi had herself been overjoyed when Voyager returned. She had received communication from Noah Lessing who had been on the Equinox but returned with Voyager. It had been a huge shock to discover he was still alive. They were best friends at the Academy, and had remained friends until the Equinox too, had vanished in the Badlands.

Again, without looking up, Janeway said, "Lock up here, Lieutenant. I'm going to be in a meeting for quite some time. Cancel the rest of my appointments then take the afternoon off."

Adessi remained standing, gaping as she stared at the admiral, still somewhat afraid, even after two years working for her. She knew there had been a lot of talk three years ago when Captain Chakotay left Earth. Sometimes, when she had to work at Admiral Janeway's desk, she too, would stare at the little face in the picture - a smiling child with beautiful dimples and pitch black hair. Adessi wondered what the meeting was about. It seemed important.

"You're still there, Lieutenant?" Janeway barked, her attention still on the PADD.

Adessi almost curtsied before blurting, "Yes, ma'am!" Then she fled the office and hurried to her own little box where she immediately opened a comm-link to Noah Lessing who was on shoreleave.

When Noah's face appeared on the screen, Adessi didn't wait to greet first. Instead, "Noah, I swear I'm going to resign my post! Admiral Janeway - "

All Noah could tell her in his placid, reassuring voice, was "Be patient, Adessi. She will smile again. That day is near."

The minute Lieutenant Uhura left, Kathryn read the message again. Admiral Ponsonby wanted to meet with her. Admirals Owen Paris, Hays and Greaves would also be present. She gave a wan smile, suddenly regretting giving poor Adessi, a descendant of the legendary Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, so much grief. Adessi was a stunning creature, very tall, with the same doe-like eyes of Noah Lessing. In fact, they belonged to the same tribe, the ancient Maasai of Kenya.

Janeway rubbed her temples. "I've been in a bind for so long, I've forgotten how to smile..." she muttered under her breath.

She looked at the face in the picture. It seemed the little boy became alive with his animated smile. He was a beautiful child, she thought idly, caressing the cool glass. A sudden image of another framed picture hitting the floor, of her door opening and Chakotay standing there, gaping, his eyes filling with rage that radiated from him and touched her. She shook her head to dispel that intrusive image, her heart lurching with pain so fierce that she clutched at her breast.

"I will not succumb. I will not..."

She touched the picture again, murmuring softly, "You brighten my days..."

Then she rose from her desk and smoothed down her uniform. The meeting was in a small boardroom in the same building, two levels up. She kept wondering why they wanted her in a meeting she knew from her stepfather's communiqué, was outside her own jurisdiction. Unless, she thought, they'd want her on a mission, most likely join Fleet Admiral Greaves who would lead the small armada deep into the Gamma Quadrant. It was where Chakotay...

She tried not to think of Chakotay. It was enough that a little smiling boy with raven hair and dimples reminded her constantly of him. She shook her head, glad when she finally reached the Pavel Chekhov room where she pressed the chime and entered when the doors slid open. They were indeed all there, Owen Paris and Adam Ponsonby smiling at her as she approached the table and seated herself next to Hays.

"Well, gentlemen, I guess I'm here for a reason?"

"Indeed, Kathryn," Adam Ponsonby replied, their smiles fading.

Janeway frowned. Something serious was going on.

"What is going on?" she asked.

"We've just received communication that one of our vessels have been destroyed, Admiral Janeway," said Hays.

"You're sending out a rescue fleet?"

"Yes. Its crew have been captured and imprisoned, most likely subjected to torture. We cannot rule out slavery."

"Where?"

"Deep in the Gamma Quadrant. Sector 4630."

Kathryn went cold at the news. Before she could respond, Adam Ponsonby spoke.

"Kathryn, the vessel is the USS Missouri..."

Chakotay...

He was out of her life, had done so three years ago, in a blaze of rage so great, all she could envision of him in all her thoughts, dreams and meanderings of the past, was the deep loathing and his outpouring of seething profanity that day. After that he'd left, taken a demotion and boarded the Missouri on a five year mission into deep space. She was an admiral. She had to know where every ship was located in all the quadrants, even far flung sectors in the Delta Quadrant these days. Of course she knew where he was. He didn't know about Ciarán. Even if he knew... God help her, even if he knew, he'd swear Mark Johnson sired her son. Why should he believe otherwise?

She felt the blood drain from her face. She shook her head, pulled away from those tormenting thoughts, realising the eyes of four admirals were on her.

"I cannot do this," she said, looking at each one in turn.

"Kathryn," Owen Paris said, "you're our most experienced officer to lead a rescue mission. Captain Kendal Compton has been killed as far as we've been able to ascertain, along with about seventy of his crew. We know that Commander Chakotay must still be alive. We must get the survivors back."

Preservation of life before all else. She was raised on that ethos since her academy days. If she blatantly, without good reason refused to take Voyager to lead the mission, they could court-martial her. She had no choice. Adam Ponsonby and Owen Paris knew the reasons for her separation from Chakotay three years ago. Her anger towards Mark had persisted throughout what passed as a trial. She had felt a blinding desire then to kill him. With their help she'd made certain that Mark Johnson never pestered her again. Ever. Such was the force of her own retaliation against the man who raped her.

Now, the admirals were looking at her, waiting for her to accept the new mission.

"Admiral Hays, why the secrecy surrounding the mission?"

She knew there had to be more than just rescuing the crew of the Missouri from prison and certain slavery. Hays glanced at Greaves and Paris before meeting her gaze.

"They were in possession of information of a sensitive nature. They were indeed returning from the Gamma Quadrant when the Melvechians attacked them."

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"As soon as Voyager can be cleared at McKinley," said Ponsonby. "You have forty eight hours..."

She sat staring at them for some time before she nodded. Her mouth felt dry, her heart pounded. It would take Voyager at least a fortnight to reach Sector 4630 in the Gamma Quadrant. With Voyager's new hyper drive, they could shave off a week, nine days...

For the next two hours they hammered out preparation details. Kathryn could put together her most experienced Voyager crew available. She had only one agenda: Bring back Chakotay and survivors of the USS Missouri. At the end of the meeting Kathryn was somewhat exhausted, but fired up for active duty again. If she could keep Chakotay exactly where he needed to be, a survivor of a destroyed vessel, all would be fine. She refused to be again at the receiving end of his condemnation of her.

When they prepared to leave the Pavel Chekhov room, Ponsonby cleared his throat.

"Could I see you for a few minutes, Kathryn?"

She nodded. Privacy was the beautiful grounds of Headquarters where Boothby kept a watchful eye over his precious blooms.

The grounds of Starfleet were lush, beautiful vistas of roses, ponds, green lawns, with benches at strategic spots where officers and cadets could repose and find release from daily grind and stress. Many young cadets experienced their first love here, Kathryn thought. Many cadets' hopes were crushed here too, only for them to recover and move on. These benches were witness to tears and joy, to sadness, to tragedy. Whole stories, Kathryn supposed, could be told if these lawns could speak.

Old Boothby kept a watchful eye on all who strolled through the impressive grounds. She found a bench and sat down, waiting for Adam Ponsonby to seat himself.

He looked at her, a gentle smile creasing his attractive features. Usually he liked to tease her or eye her with a challenging look whenever he made a bold move in 3D chess. Now his smile was one of concern for her.

"Why me, Adam?" she asked quietly.

"Your mother said so."

He was lying, but that was just his humorous way with her.

"Kathryn, you're the finest officer we can allow on this mission and no one else, primarily because of your experiences in the Delta Quadrant. Greaves will be leading the fleet, but your express mission is to recover Commander Chakotay."

Ponsonby gave a little sigh. He probably hoped she didn't notice it.

"That's not all, is it?"

"No. Owen Paris and I felt it was time you confronted Chakotay and lay your demons to rest."

"I have n - "

"Kathryn... Chakotay should be told about Ciarán. He should be told what really happened. He should be told the truth. Try and forgive him. You need to resolve this, my dear, for none of us can bear not seeing your smile. I - uh, I don't think you're happy. Please, tell him."

"What, so he can call me names again and tell me Ciarán is Mark Johnson's child?"

"You're no coward, no quitter. You will deal with it, I'm certain of that. With this mission you'd have your chance to explain what happened. At least give him the chance to reflect on your truth."

She remained pensive for a few minutes. She always wondered about that, whether he'd believe her side of what had happened that fateful day three years ago. Even so, placing herself in Chakotay's shoes she could imagine what it must have looked like appearing so unexpectedly in her office while Mark assaulted her. Yes, she had wondered how Chakotay would react if she were to tell him her side of the story. Sometimes she imagined a different scenario, one where Chakotay had instant recognition of what was happening that day, that he'd kill Johnson for his miserable deed. How she prayed he'd come to rescue her then. Many times she had wondered why Chakotay didn't have immediate understanding of what had happened. She had always hoped he'd know straightaway. But it was never to be. The opposite happened. Now, it's a constant flickering image - his fury that day directed at her. Kathryn blinked several times, trying to dispel those terror-filled moments when Chakotay raged at her.

"You must know it hasn't been easy for me."

Adam Ponsonby nodded. "It won't be easy this time, Kathryn, but you're a warrior. You're not going to quit." He was quiet a few seconds, then said, "By the way, we've extended the range of the restraining order against Mark Johnson. We've sent him to a Federation planet fourteen lightyears from our own solar system. Doc Zimmerman will continue to monitor the transponder."

Kathryn smiled for the first time.

"Thank you."

"I have to go now. Your mother sends her regards and wants you to see her when you return from your mission. We will naturally take care of Ciarán. He's completely adorable. But then of course, you're his mother. You know that already."

She remained seated while she watched Adam Ponsonby depart. He had married her mother while Voyager was still heading for home in the Delta Quadrant. An attractive, tall, lanky man, he towered above the diminutive Gretchen Janeway, whom Kathryn has since heard, made the poor man work really hard for her hand in marriage. He was the kindest man who adopted Kathryn and Phoebe as his children and little Ciarán as his favourite grandchild.

Her thoughts strayed to Mark Johnson. Even now, she could picture the madness in his eyes and her own struggles against his brute power. Yet after the assault, after he had sneered knowingly at Chakotay, after Chakotay's condemnation and fury, when she had time to recover and return to a semblance of order, her own rage had set in, against Chakotay and mostly, against Mark Johnson. She could no more speculate that his actions were out of character. It _was_ out of character for him, but he had been beset by madness and his subsequent actions made what he had done, an unforgivable, reprehensible act. There was no excuse for what he had done.

It was an act for which he had to pay.

So she had gone to Adam Ponsonby, her step-father, her mother and Doctor Zimmerman, just before he transferred to Jupiter Station. She told them of what had happened, had managed to subdue the shame she felt. They had no reason to disbelieve her, for by that time Chakotay had already left on the USS Missouri. They had wanted her to take legal action, but she'd refused.

"We have a plan, Kathryn," Adam had told her the following day, giving her details of what they were planning to do. "I do hope you do not mind that we have had to inform Owen Paris." Kathryn hadn't minded. There wasn't much Owen didn't know about her professionally, or what had happened to them so many years ago in the Cardassian prison.

Her eyes had widened with shock at what they planned but when the shock died down, she had been in favour of their plan. Except Owen Paris, no one outside of her family would know of the attack, the medical details of it encrypted. So she had contacted Mark who was still on Earth and who had meanwhile tried to see her. Evidently, he wasn't finished with her. She had refused to entertain him, and definitely not alone, and had in fact told him never to show his face again. She merely relayed the message as she was instructed to do by Owen Paris.

She thought of that day at Starfleet Medical. Johnson was called to the hospital under the ruse that Kathryn carried a Delta Quadrant virus and that he had to receive treatment immediately. When Mark arrived, he had just given her a terse nod, a glint in his eyes which made her shudder. She realised that he was no longer the man whom she had loved at one point, who had been her fiancé. He even looked different from the kind face she always remembered.

Mark had gone quietly into the theatre when Doctor Zimmerman and Admiral Ponsonby waited for him. Mark hadn't even bothered to question them. He was a philosopher and had been sent many times to worlds decimated by disease and alien viruses. He had no reason to doubt them.

The doctor had been succinct. "Or else you'll carry this and eventually die of an unknown Delta Quadrant disease." Mark had nodded solemnly. Kathryn thought he actually looked remorseful, but drove that idea forcefully out of her. He had lain on the biobed and the doctor sedated him.

What followed was simple. The doctor implanted a transponder at the base of his skull, just deep enough in the bone to remain active. Only Zimmerman could remove it and no other doctor, engineer or scientist.

"Admiral," Doctor Zimmerman ordered when he had finished the procedure, "could you move away about five metres?"

She moved back from the biobed until she was far enough away. Then Zimmerman activated the transponder. Mark Johnson, even in an unconscious state, began shuddering, murmuring in pain.

"Doctor?" Kathryn asked.

"Now move further back, just one metre..."

When Kathryn complied, the shuddering and pained cries stopped.

Zimmerman deactivated the transponder. Kathryn stepped close to the bed again. Her ordeal was still harrowingly fresh in her mind and she felt like driving her fist very hard through Mark's mouth, or damaging him in some way. But doctor knew best. He woke up the philosopher whose wife and children were still on vacation on Mars, unaware of the crime the husband and father had committed.

Mark Johnson sat up on the bed, rubbing his neck at some irritation. Then Owen Paris spoke in hard, uncompromising terms.

"Johnson, we know what you have done to Kathryn Janeway. It was a dishonourable deed." Paris waited for his words to sink in. Mark showed little emotion, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth was enough proof that he knew what he had done.

"We have decided not to press charges, Johnson, for you to rot in the New Zealand Penal Colony. We would not want to separate you from your wife and little boys now, would we?"

"What are you planning to do?" Mark spoke without once looking at Kathryn. She was still harbouring extreme anger and still wanted to punch him badly. As many blows as would her strength allow.

"Starfleet Command is sending you on a mission to Dreyden. It's ten lightyears from our solar system."

"I'll - " Mark frowned heavily, outrage only beginning to show in his eyes.

"We are monitoring you. You will go to Mars, collect your family and from there, you'll be on the USS Narendra on route to Dreyden. Once you're on Dreyden, we will activate the transponder we've implanted at the base of your skull. Do not attempt to remove it. Do not contact us when you're in pain. Do not contact Admiral Janeway by whatever means. Do not leave the orbit of Dreyden. If you leave the orbit of that planet, the transponder activate and will cause you unimaginable pain. Why? Because that planet is the distance of the restraining order Kathryn Janeway has brought against you, as long as she is stationed on Earth. Should Kathryn find herself elsewhere in the Federation, we will naturally adjust the telemetry. Come any nearer, just try it, it will be at your own peril."

Ponsonby had placed his arm protectively around Kathryn and added, "There will be no review, no reprieve for you."

Kathryn would remember the look on Johnson's face for a long time. It was perplexity, shock and outrage all rolled into one. He got up silently facing Kathryn.

"Kathryn, I'm sorry you feel this way. I didn't think you'd go squealing to these - "

Before he could finish his sentence, Kathryn banged her fist hard against his mouth. Then she landed another punch, which knocked the unsuspecting Johnson off his feet. He landed heavily against the biobed.

"What you have done to me," she began in trembling rage, "was criminal. Leave now and never come back."

Mark scurried to his feet and hurriedly left the room.

Only then Kathryn had let out a long sigh of relief. Mark Johnson would never trouble her again. He'd still have his family, but he could practice philosophy on a planet far, far away. Owen Paris had given her arm a reassuring squeeze before he too left.

Kathryn had flexed her fist, crying out in pain when she realised she must have broken her hand.

Doctor Zimmerman cleared his throat while he fixed her hand.

"Admiral Janeway, there's something I have to tell you."

Kathryn glanced up at her step-father, then nodded to the doctor.

"When I completed your medical exam, I - uhm, discovered you are pregnant. But rest assured, Mr Johnson is not the father."

Kathryn gave them both a sad smile.

"I know."

She had already tested herself a few days earlier. She was going to tell Chakotay about the baby that day when he burst into her office.

Kathryn rose from the bench as gave a deep sigh. How was she going to face him now, three years later?

**END CHAPTER ONE**

TBC -


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER TWO**

_"Caged birds accept each other, but flight is what they long for."_

- Tennessee Williams

"Don't touch her!"

The scream came from deep inside him, a hoarse, guttural, animal-like sound, a bubbling burst of rage that echoed in the cell.

Two prison guards were manhandling Lieutenant Ogden, punching her viciously as she tried to fend them off. Her screams filled the cell, its sounds bouncing off the walls. They filled his ears, long, sharp lances that pierced his eardrums. It was like an animal in pain.

"Don't touch her!" he roared.

"Silence, infidel!"

One guard - a tall Melvechian called Runak whose bare arms appeared full of tattoos, jerked round and pressed his phaser against Chakotay's chest. "You should know better than to open your mouth, infidel!" Then he turned his attention to Ogden, a sick, wicked grin on his face.

Chakotay's eyes were bleeding. At least that's what it felt like. Blood. Tears. A thousand blows ago he'd felt the same, screamed the same. Blood. Tears. He didn't care. He had already been beaten by the guards hours ago when they'd wanted to get at Ogden, their clawed fingers tearing at her uniform, long deep scratches in her face, her neck, on her arms. Twice before - the days had become a blur anyway - they'd threatened to assault her. He had gone berserk, trying to fend off her assailants. He knew he couldn't last much longer, but he would fight to the death.

It was difficult to breathe without pain. He knew his ribs were heavily bruised, maybe fractured. He bore his own pain with stoic ease. But Lenaria? What must she, a Bolian, be feeling? She tried not to scream, bore her own pain with courage, but it was too much. They were overpowered. The guards wanted one thing, and he wasn't going to allow them near Ogden. He had heard screams from the other cells, had tried to close his ears, blank out the terror of those screams. He had no idea how many of them had survived the attack, although he sensed it could not have been more than fifty or sixty.

His pain was excruciating, but he grit his teeth. His rage had only just started its bubbling. One Melvechian grabbed Ogden and ripped her teal jacket with gnarled fingers. She screamed again. The shorter, stockier guard grunted with pleasure as he watched his comrade, ready to participate in the assault. Impatient, he too moved in to rip Ogden's uniform from her.

"We will taste the produce first before we sell our wares on the slave market," the tall Melvech guard grunted. Lenaria had little means of fighting back as they began stripping her, grunting and laughing as Runak began unbuckling his belt.

"Negbon, hold the wench down," he commanded his friend, "she's feisty, this one."

.

"No!"

With superhuman strength Chakotay knocked Negbon to the ground. The guard went flying, knocking his head with such force against the prison wall that he was stunned. The first guard pinned Ogden on the ground, in a swift movement whipping off his belt, his eyes filled with mad lust. Ogden screamed again, tried to roll sideways, but the attacker was too quick for her. He grunted, pulling down his pants, ready to strike. His free hand scored deep scratches down Lenaria's cheek. Next instant Chakotay charged like an enraged bull, dragging the Melvechian off Ogden, his engorged penis bobbing out of his pants. Chakotay pulled him up, his arm enclosing the guard's neck in a vice grip, oblivious of his own pain.

"I will break your neck," he hissed. "Touch my officer again, I swear to God I will kill you!"

He was ready to snap the attacker's neck. He punctuated his words with a shove to Runak's throat. In the death grip the guard could do nothing except sputter and choke. The other guard had regained consciousness and was pointing his phaser at Chakotay. Lieutenant Ogden was forgotten for the moment. She cowered against the wall, sobbing.

"Come any closer and your friend will die!" Chakotay hissed.

Runak tried to move his mouth. When it was freed, he shouted, "Let me go!"

"Only if you leave my officer alone," Chakotay bargained, increasing his grip. "Leave her, you hear me?"

Chakotay knew their situation was dire, but he knew the guards were under orders not to kill the prisoners. It didn't stop the guards from brutalising them. So he challenged them; it was the leverage he used.

"Leave them, Negbon," the guard reluctantly ordered as he tried to pull up his pants.

The Melvechian backed off, still brandishing his phaser at them, mocking them. The tattooed Runak faced off with Chakotay, in his eyes a murderous glint. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand..

"We will leave her...for now," he sneered, the threat clear. Then he turned and kicked the helpless Ogden in the ribs. Her body slammed against the wall, snapping her head back. She slumped forward.

Chakotay, blinded by fury, lunged forward , but this time both guards were ready for him.

"We will take great pleasure in exterminating you, Commander."

They pushed Chakotay so hard against the wall, his head bounced off it. Then he felt a hard punch in his gut, followed by more punches and kicks as both attacked him, kicking him to the ground. He was dimly aware of Ogden crying out. When he could no longer lift his head from the ground, the thumping receded. A door slammed shut. The silence was deafening, like an echo of the fight swirling around in the cell. Then they were alone. Chakotay groaned. There was a bloody, bitter taste in his mouth. He suppressed the urge to gag, dragging his body to where Ogden lay hunched on the ground. He sagged against her.

"You're okay?" he slurred, coughing as he spoke. He tasted blood.

"I've been better," she groaned. She remained quiet a few minutes. "Thank you."

"They won't kill us," he assured her, before everything went black.

Lenaria Ogden sagged against the roughened wall, her body shuddering, the memory of the blows against her body still churning inside her. Once again, Commander Chakotay saved her from being sexually brutalised. How long could they keep defending themselves? The last few days she wondered often why the Melvechians hadn't just killed the rest of the crew. Now they were subjected to mindless torture and all manner of humiliation. She wished sometimes she had died with the rest of the crew. Now she was simply a punching bag and sex tool. She was nearing the end of her endurance.

Chakotay lay unconscious, although his body twitched from time to time. There was little time to grieve the deaths of her friends and fellow officers, the death of their captain, for no sooner had they been thrown in these hell holes than the tortures started. Many times she heard screams coming from adjacent cells, the tormenting fear that they too, are near death or dying.

Beketamun Irsi, her best friend, had died in the cells.

Lenaria shifted, pain lancing her chest. She winced as shegingerly touched her ribcage. Two or three ribs were either broken or cracked. She wondered how long Commander Chakotay would be able to fight the guards. Her injuries were incurred days ago when he also fought the guards fiercely as they tried to rape her. Even now, in the dim light seeping through the only windowless opening in the cell, she remembered his eyes - wild with rage and intensity to protect her.

He had taken brutal punishment. She was certain he had broken ribs and bones, that he was concussed. They could only hold out so long. If help did not arrive soon, they'd all be dead or sold into slavery. Time was running out for them. Lenaria gave a little sob, trying hard not to weep or even fall asleep lest the guards surprised them again.

She rested her head against the wall and tried to keep her eyes open. But she was exhausted; she was in severe pain, the throbbing in her chest continued unabated. She was going to ask Commander Chakotay to help her end her suffering. She could no longer bear to witness his fierce protection of her, being beaten to near death for it. Yes, she thought, it would be the best for her. She drew in her breath, giving a little cry of pain as her lungs and ribs protested.

She was tired...so tired.

_If I could only close my eyes for a second. _

There was a lightness in his step as Chakotay disembarked at the transport terminus at Starfleet Headquarters. He'd had a very fruitful day with Senora Mendoza, reaching an agreement that he'd collaborate on the Dorvan Chronicles. She was particularly interested in his father Kolopak taking the tattoo of the Rubber Tree People and his own induction into taking the tattoo years later.

"You are in a hurry to return, Chakotay," she'd said with an all too knowing smile. "There is someone who owns your heart..."

He'd stared at her, unable to hide his surprise. Kathryn did indeed, own his heart. It had been hers for so long, throbbing unabated in a lonely torch song. Kathryn returned his feelings. It was difficult not to jump for joy, for that was what he'd felt like telling every stranger who passed by that Kathryn Janeway loved him.

It had been an unforgettable moment, that night she revealed her need of him. When Kathryn said, "I love you, Chakotay", he'd become momentarily dizzy, wondering if he had heard her correctly. He had waited so long, so long for her... They'd spent their first night together on a new voyage of discovery, one where Kathryn was generous as he'd always known she could be, generous and feisty and alluring and incredibly sexy.

Most of his waking moments during that night he had to pinch himself that it was real, Kathryn was his forever.

"I really, really, cannot imagine living or existing without you, Chakotay," she'd breathed against his cheek. He'd wanted to weep. Maybe he did, he didn't care. Kathryn loved him, heart, body and soul. It had been so difficult to leave her warm bed this morning, wanting to enjoy her nearness, her love.

Now all he wanted to do was get to Kathryn's office and go on his knees and beg her to marry him. Yes, that was what he wanted to do. He touched the little box in his pocket, his heart suddenly racing at the prospect of going on his knees. He wanted to go on his knees! He wanted to stay on his knees until she said 'yes' to him. He wanted to fetch her the moon, swim the cenotes in the Yucatan until he could no longer hold his breath. He wanted take her to the centre of the Earth and tell her they formed the essential core from which all of life sprang! All because she said, "I love you."

It was already later than he'd imagined, but Kathryn he knew, would be waiting for him. He hadn't forgotten the look in her eyes when he left early this morning, promising he'd marry her when he returned.

He was ready to be the perfect friend, the perfect lover, the perfect husband and who knew, one day be the perfect father. Yes, that was what he wanted. That and more. Everything he'd waited seven long years for was his to enjoy, to explore, to have, to appreciate and to value. Kathryn was...everything!

He frowned when he saw moving shadows against the light emanating from the window of Kathryn's office. Perhaps her temporary aide? he wondered. Heaven forbid that it be that obnoxious Mark Johnson. Despite all that Kathryn had told him of her former fiancé, at the reception Chakotay had experienced an inexplicable and instant dislike for the man.

Mark Johnson had shifting eyes. He looked at Kathryn a tad too long, with a gaze that all but told him the man had not forgotten the woman to whom he had once been engaged. Johnson had travelled all the way from Mars just to see Kathryn. Chakotay could understand a man wanting to see his former love, but that man was now married with twin boys. That man had left his vacation with wife and children to see Kathryn? It didn't make sense to Chakotay. Johnson couldn't seem to leave Kathryn alone.

He had warned Kathryn, "Don't give Johnson the time of day, okay?"

Kathryn had been too kind to say, "Don't be jealous, Chakotay."

Now, a sudden feeling of disquiet settled in his chest as he made his way to Kathryn's office. His heart was pumping. Outside Kathryn's door he heard sounds. Familiar sounds. Sounds he knew he should not be hearing. He stood motionless for a few seconds, feeling how the blood drained from his face. He pushed the door open. The scene in front of him was already beginning to engrave itself on his mind.

Blink. It cannot be. Blink. It is an indelible truth.

His Kathryn.

Oily Mark Johnson.

Kathryn sprawled over her desk, Johnson in the last lustful jerking shudders over Kathryn.

Kathryn turned her head to look at him.

"Chakotay!" was the only cry that came from her.

Mark Johnson looked up, face flushed, yet his eyes held a certain triumph in them.

Doubt was an enemy that robbed one of personal conviction, to reflect on what was unassailable truth, or lies. Riding on the same train as doubt was shock, the kind that made men and women immobile, that kept one rooted to the floor...

Chakotay believed in an instant that what he saw, left absolutely no uncertainty. It was real, his Kathryn having sex with another man, while...

Too shocked, too surprised, doubt kept him rooted to the spot, unable to move, to speak, to act even as Kathryn's eyes gleamed darkly.

Johnson disengaged himself from Kathryn. "She still wants me..." were the last words he uttered as he straightened up and brushed past before Chakotay had any time to react.

"Chakotay, please...it's not what you're thinking..." Kathryn said as she stood up.

But what was that joy he saw in her eyes when Johnson had her? Johnson firmly locked between her legs in the final thrusts of sex?

All the warnings against Johnson, all his own feelings he had about the man, all his old, old compassion, his incorruptible sense of right and wrong, is sense of fairness, his sense of honour, of love, of joy, even hate distilled into only one emotion: rage so great that it blinded him.

Kathryn staring at him with pleading eyes, her hands outstretched to him. And the only words that issued from his mouth...

"You fucking whore!"

"Chakotay, he - "

"You slut! Was I not enough for you? Never enough?"

Chakotay moved towards her, dishevelled from her lovemaking, her hair... He blinked and blinked, trying to find a love connection, but none was there, only his rage and his blindness. He gripped her shoulders tightly and shook her hard.

"I wanted to marry you, but you're nothing but a Starfleet officer whoring herself to any man now she's home. Was that what you were doing before you came to hunt me down? Prostituting yourself to get ahead in Starfleet? What did he offer this time? President of the Federation? Is that what you're selling yourself for?"

All the while he shook Kathryn, her teeth chattering, he was oblivious to the tears that spilled from her, or her protestations of innocence. Then, suddenly, he pulled her over the desk, tugging at her clothes.

Kathryn gave a little scream, but it was like a tiny cry in the wilderness.

"What he can give you, I can too," he rasped.

Then Kathryn wept, pleading. "Not you too, Chakotay..."

He released her abruptly as his blind rage receded for a second only. He stood over her, breathing hard. Then he gripped her shoulders again and pulled her roughly into his embrace, her face nearly touching his, her eyes pleading.

"There is no us, Janeway! Not anymore! I will not touch a whore! You are no better that those useless Maquis tramps who whored themselves all over the Badlands!"

"Please, please, let me explain..."

He looked at her for long, moments, his rage replaced by cold hatred.

"Kathryn Janeway, legs wide open, Mark Johnson lying between them, riding you like a horse. In your office. What is there to explain?"

"Chakotay!"

"A bitch in heat." Chakotay shook his head. "Get dressed, or are you waiting to fuck the next admiral who walks in here? Maybe Admiral fucking Paris?"

Then he turned and left Kathryn standing there, his heart aching with despair, a heart that betrayed him.

Yet, for a single moment, he could not forget a certain look in her eyes, a look just as he entered the room.

Three years later, that look still haunted him.

She wanted saving...

Then his heart broke again into pieces.

"Kathryn!"

Lenaria Ogden woke with a sudden jerk, gasping for breath when she heard an anguished cry. It was dark but the Commander's body had moved, so that he lay closer to her, his head almost touching her. She touched his forehead. It was damp.

"Commander, wake up! Open your eyes!" she whispered, trying to shake him. The movement caused a spear of pain through her upper body. Groaning, she lay back against the wall. "Please, wake up..."

She felt him stir, a sluggish movement in which he tried to sit up. After some effort, punctuated by groans as he rested briefly, he sat next to her. His head slumped forward.

"Commander!"

"Huh...?"

"Wake up, please. I - You have been dreaming, I think."

He'd called out a name. Kathryn. It tore from his chest like a fire so great, the flames touched her soul. It was as if the name itself drifted slowly away from him, carried on a wind unknown to her. He yearned for that name, that person to return, to drift back to him.

Kathryn.

Lenaria had heard that name many times, rushing from the lips of crew on the Missouri, officers and ensigns who were only too willing to add to the gossip around the first officer. He was their mystery man, one whom they said took a demotion because of something that happened in his past. Everyone wondered about the Native American first officer whose rugged handsome appearance was marred by the perpetual scowl on his face.

Chakotay was a hard man, an officer who brooked no nonsense from anyone on their ship. Most of the time the young ensigns were scared of him, too afraid to make one mistake. Even she held him in awe. Lenaria thought Chakotay must once have been a man who had a soft side, a kind side, a side that exuded compassion, empathy, a man guided by a spiritual side that could invite a troubled officer to talk to him. That was what was hidden inside him. Yet, he had walked the corridors of the Missouri looking like a dark cloud. He never smiled. Never. That was the talk on the ship.

Some said he was unlucky in love.

Sighing, she nudged him again. "You called out a name, Commander. Kathryn's name."

It was a long time before Chakotay stirred.

"Kathryn..."

"Yes." She paused. "Could you tell me about Kathryn, Commander?" she asked.

It was presumptuous, asking the first officer of her ship about his private life. But Lenaria imagined it would at least keep him alert. He could die in his sleep. His wounds were so extensive. They were quiet a long time. He tried lifting his head. It shocked her when she saw in the dim light how blood had congealed in his swollen face - his nose, his eyes, the corner of his mouth, hair matted with blood.

It seemed to her Chakotay was reluctant to share anything.

"Kathryn," he began, "is lost to me..."

Lenaria's eyes filled with tears. He sounded so lost himself. What could have happened? she wondered.

"Her heart was bound to yours, once?"

It was a long time before Chakotay replied, "Once. Now, it is cold inside me. I have been cold for three years."

"Such a love does not die," Lenaria said softly.

Chakotay shifted position so that he could look at her.

"You sound very sure, Ogden."

"My parents, their hearts were bound."

"Forever?"

"Even in death."

"They died?"

"Aye, sir. During the Dominion War. I have no immediate family, except a distant cousin."

"I am sorry to hear that. But we will get out of here," Chakotay promised. "Then you will see your cousin again."

"Commander, do you think we will be rescued? By Starfleet?"

"Distress signals had been sent out, Lieutenant. They... will...come."

His began slurring the last few words. Fear gripped Lenaria. He had fought the guards on three occasions to protect her. He couldn't last another battering. What if they came in the middle of the night?

"Keep awake, please! Don't go. Stay awake!" she pleaded urgently. "They will come again..."

"I will fight them, Ogden. I will fight them..."

Chakotay was in no condition to fight. She knew he had too many fractured bones, cracked ribs, concussion. He drifted in and out of his delirium. Dreaming of his Kathryn at least brought him to wakefulness. Should the guards come again, she knew Chakotay would find the strength again to fight them. But he was getting weaker by the hour...

She bit back a sob as she thought of her parents who died on their homeworld during the Great War. Their faces were so clear as she remembered them - kind, generous, wholesome, open in the manner in which they loved her as their daughter.

"There is a way out, Commander Chakotay. Will you do something for me?"

"What is it?" he asked heavily, his breathing erratic. He was sinking into unconsciousness.

"Bolians believe in assisted death...what humans call euthanasia. If you can...help me...before the guards return..."

Lenaria was unprepared for the sudden strength with which Chakotay grabbed her jacket front and pulled her to him. He groaned in pain, but there was unexpected strength in his grip.

"If you die, Lenaria Ogden, whether by my hand or not, I shall never forgive myself, you hear me? Never!"

He shook her with the strength he had left. "You hear me?"

"It - it will be best," she said on a sob. "You are too severely injured to fight them off once more. Let me die...please..."

He released her, sagging back against the wall.

_We will both die here, _was her anguished thought_._

"You hear me..." he said before he sank into oblivion.

**END CHAPTER TWO**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER THREE**

"_Forgiveness has nothing to do with absolving a criminal of his crime. It has everything to do with relieving oneself of the burden of being a victim-letting go of the pain and transforming oneself from victim to survivor."_  
>- C.R. Strahan<p>

It was warm this time of the year, especially in Indiana. Gretchen and Adam Ponsonby stayed in the great farmhouse whenever Kathryn went away on a mission. Fortunately, those times she had gone away, was never more than a week.

Ciarán had become used to being cared for by his grandparents. Adam Ponsonby was completely bowled over by the exuberant child who had latched on to the older man with uncommon devotion. He was passionate about his Grampy, who introduced the toddler to Flotter and Treevis, to starships, to sailing ships and even went visiting the Smithsonian Museum where Ciarán was fascinated by the Flight Centre.

"We don't mind taking care of Ciarán," her mother said the previous night. "He's a darling child and keeps us both on our toes and wide awake!"

"We have to inspect his mouth whenever he's outside," Adam added, looking at Ciarán with great tenderness. "I am really glad to be part of this family..."

"And a good thing too, else who would chase after Ciarán when he's running at breakneck speed?"

Kathryn was glad they didn't mention Chakotay again, although she was certain they were thinking things they wouldn't say openly to her. She appreciated their stance because she always cringed at the ugly memories of that last day in her office. Yet, their concern was for her; she could see it in their eyes. She had drawn in her breath and taken Ciarán to sit on her lap. She sat at her vidcom where she flicked to a picture of Chakotay.

The boy immediately stuck out his hand and touched the face.

"Papa..."

"Yes, sweetie."

Ciarán turned to look at her. His lower lip was trembling. Any moment she knew he would cry. She'd given a deep sigh before switching off her device. After that he had thrown a little tantrum. It still stunned her how her son could so completely understand the face in the picture as his father and that Chakotay was a vital but missing part of his young life. It had taken almost ten minutes before they could pacify him. Yet she needed to keep Chakotay alive in her son's memory.

Who knew? One day Chakotay might return and all would be forgiven.

That was last night. Ciarán had been put to bed on the promise that she'd be back soon. It really was good having her mother and stepfather be there for her and step in whenever she needed them.

It was hard to leave Ciarán them for an extended period of time. The child had been fractious to say the least, especially last night. He seemed to sense she was going to be away, becoming tearful and clingy. Ciarán was normally a balanced child who took pride in his scraped knees when he fell and dusted himself off again.

There was not much she could hide from either her mother or her stepfather. Her mission was two-fold - she had to save the rest of the Missouri's crew and make things right with Chakotay. The last part was her mother's precise wording. Make things right? Could she ever forget the hate in his eyes? Ever forget the damning words that flowed like a torrent of filth from his mouth?

Sighing, she closed her office door, pausing briefly when she remembered Chakotay slamming the door that day he left her. Thankfully, these days she could shut out those memories, however briefly.

It was 0600. She'd arrived at her office an hour earlier to make last minute preparations. Kathryn smiled grimly as she thought of the remaining captives of the Missouri. They were in a desperate situation. If her own incarceration in a Cardassian facility was anything to go by, the chances were that they'd be at the end of their endurance. It was imperative that she kept her focus fixed on rescue first and foremost, then think about reconciliation with Chakotay.

After leaving McKinley Station Voyager was docked at Earth's Orbital Station. Lieutenant Uhura would accompany her on the rescue mission, because of her nursing experience. The USS Savannah and the USS Orion, stationed at Deep Space Nine were traveling towards the Bajoran Wormhole . Voyager was equipped with new transwarp drive, the work of Kim, Torres, Seven of Nine and Tom Paris. They'd reach the Melvech System deep in the Gamma Quadrant hours before the others.

Just as she closed her door behind her, Adessi came gasping towards her. There was someone behind her, obscured by her aide's tall figure.

"Admiral, I tried to stop her. I told her we're leaving - "

When Adessi moved aside, Kathryn frowned when she looked at the newcomer, a woman who appeared nervous, as if afraid Kathryn wouldn't see her. The stranger looked somewhat familiar, yet Kathryn couldn't place her. She was certain though, that she'd seen pictures of her, a healthier, happier face perhaps. Now it was strained, full of sorrow.

"I have very little time at it is, Adessi. Who - ?"

"Admiral Janeway," the woman began, "my name is Wanda Johnson. Please, please, may I speak with you?"

Kathryn turned ice-cold. Mark Johnson's wife. She looked so different! Kathryn nodded to Adessi who disappeared quickly down the corridor. Then she opened her door again and motioned that her visitor enter the office.

When Wanda was inside, she turned immediately to face Kathryn.

"I will not keep you long, Admiral."

Kathryn moved to stand behind her desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I know what Mark did. I know...now," said Wanda, her eyes filling with tears.

"He didn't tell you what happened three years ago?" Kathryn asked, not surprised that Mark would keep such an abominable act a secret.

"His headaches. I could never understand. There was never anyone who could cure him. Now I know about the transponder. Only now..."

"He did me a grave injustice, Wanda. It was a criminal act. You must know it hasn't been easy for me - "

"I've come to beg you, Admiral, to free him. He is truly suffering, and not only from the transponder in his head. His remorse is great."

"Wanda, I -"

"Please, I beg you. I cannot bear to see him so unhappy, to see him suffer. There were times he just stepped outside the house and suffer excruciating pain. He is truly sorry for what he did..."

Kathryn nodded. She tried to forgive Mark Johnson years ago, but images of Chakotay's raging condemnation kept coming in the way of pardon. It had always been difficult, losing Chakotay and raising her son.

She gazed at Wanda for what seemed like eternity. Perhaps it was necessary that this meeting happened, she thought. She saw her own child, robbed of a father he deserved. She saw Chakotay, robbed of a son he didn't know he had. Mother to mother sharing their sorrow. Woman to woman, face to face with the other side of an act of cowardice. Seeing in another the pain, the heartache, the sorrow of a deed committed in an act of madness. Kathryn closed her eyes briefly. She felt the sting of tears. When she opened her eyes again, it was to see tears running down Wanda's cheeks.

"How did you finally learn of what he had done?" Kathryn asked.

"I found him unconscious in his shuttle. He had wanted to come to Earth, as I learned later. That was when he explained about the transponder and the new restraining order. Only then he explained about...what he had done to you..."

"It was that or prison time, Wanda. No one else knows. Your reputation is safe - "

"Admiral, I beg you, please. Couldn't you find it in your heart to release him?"

Kathryn studied Wanda for long, heavy moments. Wanda was suffering as well. Mark, she sensed finally, must be going through a hell of his own.

"Wanda," she started slowly, "I'm leaving on a mission into the Gamma Quadrant. You know I have to consult first with Admirals Paris and Ponsonby as well as Voyager's EMH who'll be travelling with us. I know what you're thinking. Your husband's reprieve is not dependent on the outcome of my mission. But it's time I ended this. For you, for Mark Johnson, but mostly for me."

Wanda's eyes lit up, the sad droop to her mouth suddenly relieved. She began sobbing again.

"Thank you, thank you, Admiral Janeway."

Kathryn nodded and waited until Wanda left before she sank down on her chair and buried her head in her hands, a new kind of peace flowing through her.

It was a good feeling, she decided. A good feeling.

Kathryn Janeway surveyed the bridge of Voyager, her gaze fixing on each of her senior crew. They were her loyal people, a loyalty forged through seven hard years in the Delta Quadrant. Tom Paris sat at the conn. He was first officer of the Pendennis, a vessel undergoing upgrades at McKinley Station. They were all here - Harry Kim, Seven of Nine, B'Elanna who was expecting her second child, Rollins, her Chief of Security in the absence of Tuvok who was on Vulcan. She glanced at her first officer for the mission, a Bajoran Ennis Baydon and nodded.

It was a good feeling, seeing them fired with the desire to help rescue the survivors of the Missouri. She had briefed them the day before. They were ready. How long was it that she had sat in the meeting with the admirals? It seemed a lifetime ago, yet it was only forty eight hours.

"Ready Tom?"

"As soon as we hit maximum warp, engage transwarp one-zero-zero."

"Thank you. Engage."

The engines powered up and soon Voyager left the Orbital Station. Kathryn gave a little sigh. They'd be in the Gamma Quadrant very soon, to be met there by the other vessels.

"Admiral, how can we be sure they are still alive?" Harry Kim had asked at the briefing meeting earlier.

"Believe it or not, but very faint signals are coming from a system in the Gamma Quadrant. We suspect one of the survivors reconfigured his or her commbadge to emit an unbroken signal. Whoever it is, must be hiding it very well if they are incarcerated. They must be imprisoned. Melvech is notorious for selling their prisoners into slavery. The signal is originating from there."

"So they have not been sold yet," B'Elanna mused, the bifurcation on her forehead looking heated, a sign she was trying to suppress her anger.

"Yes. We must presume that they are most likely being tortured."

There had been a few minor details to discuss before she ended the meeting. Now she felt a constant disquiet, a feeling that would only recede once they had Chakotay and the rest of the survivors safe on the rescue vessels.

"Warp 9.975..." she heard Tom's voice.

"Sustain maximum warp, 60 seconds, Tom."

"Aye, Admiral."

They were already lightyears away from Earth...

"Good. Now, let's see how the transwarp simulations you've done at Utopia Planitia work in the real world. Engage transwarp."

Tom's hands flew over the conning panels. Seconds later Voyager dipped into transwarp. A thrill went through Kathryn, the impact of g-force minimised. If she closed her eyes and opened them ten seconds later, Voyager would be in the Gamma Quadrant, on approach to the Idran System.

"Admiral," Harry's voice sounded up. "We are 4.7234 light years from the Idran system, Gamma Quadrant."

Kathryn noted the pride in Harry's voice, the way Tom Paris turned from the conn to face her, grinning.

"We wait for the Savannah and the Orion," she said, moving to stand behind Tom Paris. "We should rendezvous with them... Harry?"

"One hour and 17 minutes, Admiral."

"Thank you."

Kathryn turned to her first officer. "You have the bridge, Commander Ennis."

"Admiral! I did not expect to see you here in sickbay," the EMH said as he saw Kathryn enter.

Adessi Uhura stood next to him, a smile lighting her face.

"The Doctor is bringing me up to speed, Admiral. I'm learning very fast!"

"Did you know Lieutenant Uhura is a descendent of the legendary Lieutenant Uhura?"

"Of course. She's my aide, Doctor. She tells me everything! Even when she complains to her best friend who happens to be on board - "

"Ah, you mean Noah Lessing?"

"She's been found out, Doctor." Uhura kept smiling. "Now, Doctor, we're approaching the Idran system to rendezvous with the Savannah and Orion. Once they've reached us, we travel together to the Melvech System."

Kathryn paused, looking a little thoughtful.

"Anything wrong, Admiral?" the Doctor asked. Adessi's smile also vanished.

"We must expect the survivors to have injuries of varying degrees. We believe they are being tortured."

"Captain Chakotay?"

Kathryn thought that the continuous signal emanated from Chakotay. She prayed they wouldn't discover it.

"Perhaps more than others, being in command after the Missouri's captain died. We are fairly certain he is alive."

"We will do our best, Admiral. Lieutenant Uhura and the nursing staff are preparing additional beds. The hydroponics bay has been converted to a sick bay as per your instruction."

"Yes, we are preparing for all contingencies. There may be three survivors or seventy three. We have no idea of the numbers."

"Do not worry, Admiral. We'll have Captain Chakotay right here in sickbay, main biobed."

"Doctor, I should remind you he is Commander Chakotay."

The EMH nodded. "Understood."

Kathryn then looked at Adessi. "Please, could you excuse us, Lieutenant?"

Adessi nodded then left quietly, most likely, Kathryn thought, to check up on Noah.

"Admiral?"

"Doctor, what I have to request is of a sensitive nature."

"I will not tell anyone," the Doctor replied acerbically.

"Good."

Kathryn hesitated a moment before she spoke again. Wanda Johnson's face flashed before her, a tired, sorrowful, sad face, of a woman, a mother, a wife who came to plead on her husband's behalf. Kathryn had thought about Wanda's visit frequently in the last few hours. In retrospect, she would not have considered course of action had Mark Johnson himself waylaid her in the corridor outside her office. Then again, he would have been writhing in pain. It was because of Wanda, and because she herself, a woman and mother recognised the other's torment.

"Admiral? Are you okay?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," she replied a little distractedly.

"What is weighing on you at this time, other than the rescue?"

"It is time, Doctor," Kathryn started in measured tones, "to revoke the restraining order against Mark Johnson. I will be informing Admiral Paris and my stepfather about my decision."

"Are you certain it is what you wish to do?"

"More than anything now. It - a weight has lifted off me, if you must know. It is time. I have made my peace. Johnson committed a crime and I really believe he is still paying the price of his deed."

"And you know that...how?"

"I don't believe he ever confessed to his wife about what he had done. He may have been living a lie, one lie begetting another and cascading into more lies. Yes, I do believe that."

She didn't want to tell the EMH about Wanda's visit and have them thinking she had suddenly been overcome with maudlin sympathy for the woman and for Mark. She had in any case long been pondering on reducing the terms of the restraining order. Mark Johnson was a brilliant philosopher, often sitting on commissions regarding inclusion of new planets in the Federation and other planetary issues.

"Fine. It might please you to know I have been expecting this. I have issued instructions to Doctor Elizabeth Paris to rescind the restraining order. She knows exactly what to do as soon as I give the command."

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll let you know how long from now. Then I'll leave you to continue your emergency preparations."

When Kathryn left the sick bay the feeling of disquiet had lessened somewhat. Chakotay was in possession of vital tactical intelligence on sector 4630, which, if it fell into the wrong hands, could have serious repercussions for the region. Melvech they now knew, was extremely hostile and combative.

Back in her ready room, she looked at the picture of Ciarán. He looked so like Chakotay that her heart gave a familiar leap. Unmistakable dimples, raven hair, tan. How could Chakotay not recognise Ciarán as his son once he saw the child?

She pulled herself together and activated her vid-com, the Federation insignia vanishing in a blink. She drew in her breath, expelled it slowly.

It was time to inform Admirals Paris and Ponsonby about her decision, via long range communication.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FOUR

When he'd heard her plea for assisted death, his outrage had been instantaneous.

In the past he had had no trouble when he'd helped his adversaries into their afterlife, for he always knew he acted in self-defence. An enemy rushed at him in hand-to-hand combat, and he'd made his fists do the walking all over his face and head. If the enemy carried a weapon, he was ready to use his. The enemy had no mercy and he asked for none. He killed because he acted faster than his foe.

He carried a d'k tahg sheathed inside the calf edge of his boot. A Klingon had given it to him because he faced his adversary without fear, ready to die unless he acted first. Klingons and honour. Never stab a Klingon in the back. He had never allowed his enemy to turn his back on him.

Most times, as his d'k tahg sank into the belly of his foe, he'd get a thrill just seeing the surprise on his enemy's face. As if his opponent wondered "Where did that dagger come from so fast?"

The Maquis taught him to be ruthless, for he could never expect any mercy when faced with an adversary. And there were many. He had no qualms about guilt, remorse or forgiveness. The opponent had been faceless, with no identifiable characteristic that could engender feelings of regret or pity or remorse or sympathy.

He'd been a Maquis rat, killing Cardassians with the ease that came with his built-in rage.

Yet he had never ever considered leaving this life voluntarily because he thought he had nothing to live for. His own life was something he protected and cherished. His abhorrence was instinctive. He could no more consider killing himself than he could say the sun never glowed red on the horizon of the Yucatan.

How then, could he assist another individual in the act of self-death? How could he kill someone when that person has not laid a hand on him or acted as the aggressor? Such an act was not in his rule book. Never.

His very nature rebelled at the idea. Yet Lieutenant Lenaria Ogden, a Bolian, spoke so naturally of suicide as if it was just another passing breath in the breath of her life, a mere skip of her heart beat that would take her to another plain of existence. And then, the sheer prospect of existing in another realm made her request one of wide-eyed wonder and longing.

Their situation was dire. He was losing blood and was in constant throbbing pain. He couldn't breathe without wanting to scream out in pain. How many of his bones and ribs were either bruised, broken or fractured? He'd lost count of the blows to his head. He knew he be unable to withstand another round of fighting with those bastards. A small sob escaped him. He wouldn't be able to protect Lenaria if they returned. And that thought alone troubled him. His reaction to save her had been instinctive, yet every time they'd left him and Lenaria bludgeoned and bleeding, the last coherent sliver of thought or image had always been of Kathryn.

Lieutenant Ogden was scared. He knew other female prisoners had died of the abuse of their bodies. Death was a merciful release of the terror of their tortures. As long as Lenaria was with him, he could at least keep her safe. But safety came at a cost. He became progressively weaker and knew he'd not be able to defend her honour again.

Lenaria had offered him one option. It was to kill her.

How could he do that?

He lay slumped against the wall, with Lenaria's head resting against his shoulder. Her breathing was erratic, as if she was experiencing the nightmares of their incarceration. Her best friend had already died. Their fate was unknown, although he knew the guards were not supposed to kill them. Chakotay moved his hand slowly to his legs, sliding down towards the inside of the ankle of his left foot. Just below his ankle, he rubbed the skin, feeling for the tiniest node. The action had been laborious and he sagged again as the effort of moving his hand became too much. Yet he gave a little sigh of relief. It was still there. It was still sending signals...

"Commander..."

Lenaria had woken from her stupor when he moved his hand. Now she turned her head to look at him in the darkness. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

"It will be best for me if...you...help me..." she repeated her request of earlier.

"Lieutenant, I cannot comply. I have killed men in acts of war and self-defence. But this that you ask...I cannot do it."

Her hand reached for his. "I know you carry a dagger, Commander. It is strapped against your leg. I wondered that you did not kill the guards. But that would have alerted the authorities and we would both have been executed by now. Use it now, please...I beg you."

Her voice trailed away. Her breathing became very low, almost non-existent. Chakotay, startled, tried to shake her. She rocked awake again.

"Please..."

"I will try my best," Chakotay rasped, "to get us both out of here alive, you hear me?"

She didn't answer as she remained slumped against him. If he ever felt the need to cry, those tears had left him long, long ago.

A face flashed before him. A beloved face whose gentle smile and sad eyes told him not to despair.

"Our foes were many and our battles uneven, yet we persevered. Persevere. Don't give up, Chakotay."

He must be dreaming. Those words were spoken by Kathryn. When? On Voyager? Why could he not picture her as she stood that day when he was filled with rage and she...she was filled with sadness? How had he not seen the sadness then?

Chakotay closed his eyes, wanting the image of Kathryn to remain, wanting his old, old rage against her to recede so that his heart, the insides of his very being could come to rest. He could feel the agitation recede, his body sinking into a new consciousness.

"You will find rest, my son..."

Old Kolopak's face appeared before him, a smiling face with deep furrows in his cheeks.

"Father..."

"Do what you need to do, my son, and you can save your life and that of your fellow officer."

Where did it come from? He was not in a vision quest, had not called upon the bones of his people since their imprisonment, had no river stone or akoonah on which his fingers could tremble in their pursuit to find one who had passed on.

The answer stole upon him like a silent shadow that crept unbidden along his body, infusing a new awareness, like a thrill that coursed through him with a message that all would be well if he...

He closed his eyes as the thought struck him. It was so simple. They were at the very end of their endurance. They would die if help did not come soon.

Die.

It was that simple. Perhaps now that he sensed they would die or be rescued within hours, the idea of a solution crept upon him. Did the Great Spirit decree that things happened when the time was right for it? Two weeks ago it was furthest from his mind. It had never even been there.

"Lenaria..." he croaked her name.

"Aye, Commander?"

"Will you trust me?"

"With my whole heart, sir."

"Good. Close your eyes."

Lenaria turned her face to him and closed her eyes slowly. Chakotay covered her hand with his. Then he threw back his head as if imploring the heavens to open.

So he began the old, old chant of his people, of their bones in distant lands, of their songs, their legends, their myths.

_O Great Spirit of the sandy plains and the dunes and mountains and rivers and lakes; of the wild horses that roam free, of the desert fox and the wolves of the snow-clad foothills; of my heart's bonding, _

_I speak now to you to release us from the terror of our captors, that our bodies be transported _

_to your safe plains. Keep us there to wait for her who will come to console those who hold on to this life with courage, the beaten, the broken, the punished and those who have left this plain..._

_Be with us while we are so far from the bones of our peoples, be with us, be with us..._

Chakotay prayed fervently, his lips moving in silent invocation, soft, soft like the settling of dew on the rose in the early morning. He kept on unceasingly, and words tumbled from his mouth to fall on the ears of Lenaria, to echo in his own heart. Words of solace, of inspiration to infuse them both. It never stopped, the beauty of words, of entreaty to the Great Spirit.

_Take us there, Great Spirit. Carry us on the breeze that fill up the mornings when the wild horses run the plains, their hooves whipping up billows of dust. Give us wings that span the universe and take us so high that we can see the dusty grasslands, the great mountains, the great lakes, the oceans. There, there must be a place where we can repose. Take us so that our people can see us in their dreams, that they know we are here...that they beckon us into their safe places._

Lenaria did not once open her eyes. Transfixed by her commander's voice she was transported away from their degradation. She felt herself lifted, high, higher, her body swaying on an unknown breeze. She floated away, away, away, unafraid of the future, unafraid of life. She was no longer down there in a cell where evil lurked, where Commander Chakotay held her hand.

She saw a wide expanse, a land formation that appeared familiar. By the light on the land she sensed that the summer season was upon the dwellers. Her heart sang, for she was on Bolarus IX, her homeworld. She knew the grassy knolls, the little hillocks - no more than tiny rises in the land - where she had once played as a child.

From a great distance two figures appeared, shimmering until they were upon her.

She recognised their beloved faces.

"Mother... Father...?"

"Come, daughter, you are in a place of safety now..."

Chakotay continued his invocation, his voice lowering to barely a whisper while his lips moved in humble, yet fervent supplication. The words sprang from the depths of his soul, and as the intensity of his prayer increased, his face radiated reverence. Lenaria's hand was still firmly clasped in his. Her body appeared to shudder as the energy passed from his body to hers.

Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, coursing down his temples in burning rivulets that soaked eventually into his torn uniform. Perhaps it was that there were tears. Tears? Those oozed red from his eyes as he sank deeper and deeper into his trance, passing into a realm not touched or seen by anyone..

And in his new dimension he was carried on the wings of the dark condor across the grasslands to the habitats of his people.

There he saw a myriad of monarchs flying, their gossamer wings glistening like stained glass windows in the sun. They were familiar to him, for in his childhood he had spread out his hands and watched them come to rest on his palms.

There he saw unending fields of bluebonnets and their beauty caught him for they were regal. They struck a familiar chord in his chest as he imagined children playing among the flowers, their faces raised to the sun, their laughter pealing like bells in the afternoon quiet.

And there it was that he saw many faces of those who had gone before him. They were his kin, familiar since the days of his childhood.

And it was then that he saw Hannah, his mother whose eyes were sad and proud and soft as they fixed on him.

"You are truly your father's son," she said as her fingers rested feather light against his cheek.

And from among the many faces he sought the face of his father.

Then it was that Kolopak who bore the sign of the Rubber Tree People floated towards him. Kolopak touched his hat in greeting and his smile was kind and gentle.

And the warriors of his tribe moved to create a clearing to dance for they praised the gods for the return of a lost son. On and on they moved, their feet stamping the dusty ground in rhythmic cadence, their eyes swept heavenward, their faces lost in the awe of their prayers.

And it was then that he saw another face. Her golden hair shone in the sunlight, little wisps lifting in the gentle breeze, appearing to float towards him. And it was that he remembered this face.

_Kathryn..._

And it was that the beauty of her soul entered his body and suffused him. A thousand aches he suffered for the pain he caused her. Yet she smiled and he remembered how her smile had once brought peace to his battered soul.

And it was that all his anger seeped out of his body, for Kathryn's hand was joined to that of another, a child - a boy - with dark hair, smiling eyes like hers and dimples that sat on his boyish face. It stabbed him deeply, the knowledge of her and of the child.

And it was that the warriors kept up their impassioned dance. As they moved past him, their hands seemed to invite him to join them.

"Come...come, O Contrary One and join us in our supplication..."

And it was that he joined them in the clearing where his body was healed of all pain and all shattered bones.

And it was that Chakotay began the lonely dance of the dead with them...

The main prison guard and his cohort Negbon walked towards prison cell C504 where the first officer of the destroyed vessel was held along with his fellow prisoner, the Bolian female. They had been given their orders to ship all prisoners off-world, all except the first officer of the vessel Voyager. That one could not be broken down as they had hoped. A few more rounds of their brand of torture would surely have given them the information they wanted.

Sometimes Runak thought that the officer Chakotay did not know anything of what the authorities of Melvech suspected of him. Runak wished they would tell them why they made decisions that did not include the guards of the prison. Prison guards, terraforming workers, waiters, servants, cleaners of shuttles and battleships were males and females born with diminished capacities and did not belong to the elite forces of Melvech. They were lowly functionaries of their planet and did as they were ordered. With such important prisoners, they should at least have known what was going on. Still, it did not stop them from enjoying the flesh of the females, some of them who had died of their injuries. Runak shrugged. They were puny females, not hardy like their own race.

He glanced at Negbon. Negbon had wanted that female with her blue skin from the start, but the infidel officer of the Missouri kept coming in their way. If it weren't that their orders were not to kill him they would have eliminated him on the first day and get the female. But, they were told to give him rough treatment to extract information.

And rough treatment they gave him. Runak grimaced again. They had underestimated the strength of the human male. He had himself been dealt a few serious blows to the head and chest by Chakotay who fought them like a demon. Runak grinned to himself. The authorities did not stipulate in what condition the prisoners were to be left alone. So the guards took the female prisoners first. Their screams merely incited his cohorts to greater acts of crudity.

Now they had to bring the two prisoners to the Chief of Prisons. What was it that they said about the man Chakotay? He knew things about their system? What things? They had tortured him within an inch of his life. They got nothing from him. The only thing they could learn from him was that he occupied himself with protecting his female inmate. Runak could only speculate that the prisoners represented a Federation from the Alpha Quadrant. Melvech was at war with the fifteenth planet in their system. They did not like anyone meddling in their affairs. The vessel Missouri meddled.

"I could get the female, Runak," said Negbon as they neared the cell. "Then I shall enjoy myself - "

The next moment Negbon went flying to the ground as Runak struck him.

"You will do no such thing ! We have our orders!"

"But - "

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Negbon looked angry but kept his mouth shut after that.

They opened the door of the cell. Even though it was daylight, the cell was dark, with only a shaft of light coming through an opening high in the wall.

"We must take - " Runak started before he stopped abruptly, shooting out his arm to prevent Negbon from entering the cell.

"What - ?"

In the corner, slumped against the wall were the two prisoners. They were completely still, their eyes wide open. Both guards rushed forward and stopped dead in front of the captives. They observed that Chakotay's hands were clasped tightly around the female's hand.

Negbon had seen many of his race in the state of death. Their eyes would be glazed as if they had looked upon some evil, or perhaps seen the Great Realm of their afterlife. The prisoners did not look any different from their own people when they died. There were no added injuries other than what he and Runak had inflicted upon their captives. How then, did they look like they had died?

Runak gave Chakotay a little nudge with his boot while Negbon tried in vain to prise the woman's hand from Chakotay's death-like grip.

There was no movement, no breathing. Even if they used their scanners, it would not have changed what they knew. Negbon spoke first.

"Runak, these two prisoners are dead."

"There must have been a pact," replied Runak.

"A death pact? Why?"

"Who knows, Negbon? Come, we have to report this to the authorities."

Runak had already turned to exit the cell, but Negbon paused, not entirely convinced of what he saw in front of him. He had wanted to claim the female for himself, for she had been a fighter. Even as he wanted to take her by force, he had been drawn to her courage and that of her senior officer who fought them both to the end of his endurance.

He was not used to displays of such valour as he had seen in these two prisoners. He was drawn to it, in a strange way. These were not like his own race, and he was, he realised, much of a coward. Somehow the scene before him would remain etched on his conscience for a very long time, for he sensed that the man, Chakotay, who defended his fellow officer to the death, had now killed both of them. Such was an act of survival, he realised, that they would rather kill themselves than let the woman, Lenaria Ogden, be defiled by the men of Melvech.

Yes, he sighed, they died to save themselves.

He turned to followed Runak to the offices of the warden.

END CHAPTER FOUR


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER FIVE

In an adjacent cell Ensign Sporr and Lieutenant Hamid Basha were surprised by the silence that descended over the complex. Although they looked ragged and beaten and exhausted, they were alert for the slightest sound, lest the guards came to assault them again.

Hamid heard the two guards pass their cell to where they knew Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Ogden were held. They'd heard the screams over the past two weeks, same as they themselves had been brutalised by the Melvech monsters. They knew many of their crew didn't survive the torture, and that their female colleagues had died.

They heard the guards stopping by Chakotay's cell. Not long after that, they passed by again, sounding like they were in a hurry.

Normally when the guards entered the Commander's cell, Hamid and Sporr would hear fierce cries, screams and scuffling. There'd be thumping and grunting as they knew the Commander must have fought the attackers off. Now, there was no sound. It was eerily quiet, too quiet.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" Sporr asked, barely above a whisper.

"I'm not sure, Ensign," Hamid replied. "They've been quiet a long time. I don't hear their voices anymore..."

"Do you think they could be dead - ?"

"Not certain, though it may be a possibility. There's been a lot of scurrying around the complex in the last hour. Something's wrong."

"I feel it too, Lieutenant. Maybe help is on the way?"

"I hope so, for all our sakes. At least we can still walk. The others... I have prayed that the spirits be with them."

"Me too. I have a few cracked ribs, been brutalised, but I am still alive. I am thankful."

"The god of my courage will not let me die like a dog," Hamid said, "away from all that is known to me, far from home. So would Commander Chakotay protect Lieutenant Ogden with his very life. He remains my guide right now, the reason we should all still hold out for a rescue."

"They've tortured him the most; until a few hours ago he was still fighting. What strength! What courage!"

"We should take our own courage from that."

Sporr nodded, then repeated, "It's very quiet, Lieutenant."

Before Hamid could respond, they heard footsteps. The next moment the door of their cell burst open. Two guards filled the doorway.

"You! Get up and come with us!"

"You've tortured us enough. What more do you want now?" Hamid asked.

"Infidel!" yelled Runak as he entered and yanked Hamid to his feet. Hamid groaned. His leg had been broken twice. He hobbled on one foot, tried to put the other foot down. He stood like a broken doll upright. Sporr also struggled to get on his feet. "Come!" Runak roared again.

They were bundled out of their cell and viciously pushed towards the adjacent cell. Hamid groaned and fell, then got up slowly. He had little time to be startled when he realised they we being taken to Chakotay's cell.

"What - ?"

"No talking!" Runak barked as they were pushed into the cell. Through the light from the doorway they could see Ogden and Chakotay slumped close together against the wall, their bodies limp.

"No..." he heard Sporr's soft cry.

"Your comrades are dead. You will take your dead with you."

Then the door slammed close behind them. Their commander and Ogden lay quite still, their eyes closed. Chakotay's hands were clamped tightly around Ogden's hand.

Sporr touched Ogden's cheek. It was cold. When Hamid tried to disengage her hand from Chakotay's, it was held so tightly that they struggled to release his grip.

"They're ice cold," Sporr said.

"Though their bodies are still soft. Like they're just sleeping..."

"What did the guards mean when they said we must take our dead with us? What did they do to the other crew who died?"

"Shh..." Hamid ordered softly. "They're coming again."

The door opened. There were more guards with Runak and Negbon and prisoners waiting outside. Hamid recognised their faded and dirtied uniforms, two of them as Ensigns T'Leyer and Kinich.

"Come. Carry your comrades. Be quick!"

So four prisoners lifted the body of Lieutenant Ogden and proceeded to carry her out of the cell. Hamid, Ensigns T'Leyer, Kinich and Sporr lifted Commander Chakotay and followed the others. The commander's body was heavy. Ignoring the shafts of pain that shot through his body, Hamid and Kinich steadied Chakotay's upper torso while T'Leyer and Kinich held his legs.

"Follow us!" Runak commanded.

They began trudging behind the guards. Hamid struggled with his broken leg. He knew the others had similar injuries and were trying their best not to falter or drop the bodies.

"Lieutenant," the young ensign holding Chakotay's legs whispered, "I have counted only seventeen of us..."

"We were three hundred and seventy," Hamid said. "Remember them."

Ensign T'Leyer nodded. Hamid knew the young Vulcan would keep a mental record of injuries, the number of those who died on the Missouri and in the prison of privation and torture.

The guards kept prodding them to move on. When he stumbled, he groaned as pain shot through his body. A guard hit him with the phaser rifle.

"Move!"

He looked at the others carrying Lieutenant Ogden. They struggled less as they carried a lighter charge. He had no idea where they were being taken, but outside the prison was a little better than being inside and tortured to near death. They moved over dry scorched earth, the sun beginning to beat down on them. In the distance he noticed a structure, perhaps an abode to which they headed. Were they going to be killed there after all? He sighed deeply. The deadweight of Chakotay's body began to take its toll on them.

"Psst..."

Ensign Kinich made soft sound. Hamid looked at him and frowned.

"Lieutenant, I do not think Commander Chakotay and Ogden are dead," Kinich said softly.

"What?"

"They're not dead," Kinich whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Commander Chakotay is a Native American, as I am. I think he put them both into a catatonic state."

"You're certain?"

"Yes, sir. My great-great grandfather died at the age of one hundred and twenty five. He simply sat down near the grave of his own father and began chanting, calling on the sky spirits to carry him into the clouds."

"Are you saying Commander Chakotay _deliberately_ induced a death-like state?"

"Aye, sir. To avoid further torture - "

"Or to further protect Lieutenant Ogden. She is our only female survivor. Could we resuscitate them?"

"Aye, sir. But we would have to be in Federation - "

"Silence!"

They shut up after that, but Hamid studied Chakotay's face. Hope flared brightly inside him. If what Kinich said was true... His steps became more measured as he forced the pain of his broken leg away from him. He stepped securely on his foot, imagining there was nothing wrong with it.

When they reached the abode, he realised it was not an abode after all.

He stared dumbfounded at the lowered hatch of a freighter.

"Get in, all of you."

"Where are you taking us?"

"That is none of your business," Runak barked.

The moment the Savannah and Orion arrived, they were engaged by four Melvech ships in orbit around the planet, firing on them without warning.

"No diplomacy rule there," Tom remarked as he maneuvered Voyager to evade the first blasts. The lead Melvech cruiser fired on them as the two Federation vessels attacked the other Melvech ships.

Voyager rocked sharply as the blast from the enemy vessel strafed her port bow. Tom cussed as he was thrown from his seat. Janeway pitched forward, but recovered instantly. A mad scramble ensued on the bridge as she ordered, "Shields!"

"Shields at 90 percent!"

By the time Rollins had responded in his unruffled voice, Tom was back in his seat, bringing Voyager to even keel.

"They're firing again!"

"Evasive maneuver Beta 3!" Kathryn shouted.

She watched as Tom pulled Voyager deftly to evade a barrage of strafer fire along her starboard side narrowly missing breaching Voyager's hull .

Meanwhile the Savannah and Orion fired photon torpedoes at the main Melvech vessel phaser banks. The ship burst into flames, careening sharply before it exploded into cosmic dust.

The second Melvech ship was soon disabled as Voyager launched a sustained attack on her primary phaser banks. The vessel lurched from side to side with no fire power.

"That ship's dead in the water..." said Tom.

Kathryn wanted to engage the commanding officer of the enemy vessel. But before she could order Harry to open a hail, he called her.

"Admiral!"

"What is it, Harry?"

"We have lost the Federation signal..."

Janeway turned cold.

"What?"

"The prisoners are no longer down on the planet, Admiral."

"Continue tracking!"

At that moment the Savannah hailed her. Admiral Greaves' face appeared on the main viewscreen.

"Admiral Janeway, the enemy cruisers are disabled. "

"Acknowledged, Admiral Greaves. Your ship's taken some damage as well. We've lost contact with the emergency signal. We have reason to believe they are no longer on Melvech. Commander Chakotay and the rest of the survivors can be anywhere..."

"I know you'll find them, Admiral. We will follow Voyager. Greaves out."

Kathryn wanted to cry in helpless frustration. She turned to face her bridge crew. They'd come all this way only to find the prisoners gone. If they could see the disappointment in her face or the way her shoulders sagged, she didn't care. She tried her best to remain focused. It wasn't just to get Chakotay. The rescue of all the survivors of the Missouri depended on the Federation vessels sent to bring them home. If the prisoners were not on the planet, they could all be dead. That thought alone rocked her up hard. She refused to believe they were dead.

"Harry, B'Elanna, Seven, do all you can to retrieve that signal, anything that can give us a clue as to their whereabouts."

"Admiral! I believe it may not be so difficult after all," Harry exclaimed.

"Explain."

"The signal's not on Melvech, but I've picked up an identical signal on long range sensors. It's coming from a ship 100000km off our port bow!"

"Tom - "

"I'm on it, Admiral!"

A second later the ship jumped to warp. They could intercept the vessel in a few minutes. The Savannah and Orion followed. Kathryn turned to her first officer. Ennis Baydon still remained a little in awe of her and of the manner in which Voyager's former crew could work in situations of high pressure.

"Commander, you have the bridge," she said before she made her way to the ready room.

Kathryn sat down, feeling the old nervous energy of pursuit, the thrill of the chase coursing through her. She experienced a searing pain inside her, so intense that she clutched at her breast and had to take a few deep breaths to calm down. She sighed with relief as her heart settled and the pain receded.

Her thoughts remained with Chakotay and the survivors. She flicked her vid-com and brought up Chakotay's image. She touched the tattoo, imagining he was standing right in front of her, smiling at the caress.

"In what condition will we find you all?" she whispered. "Will you still hate me? Will you acknowledge Ciarán as your son? He held me down like a coward, you know. Clamped my mouth so I couldn't scream. Could you not see that was what was happening? Couldn't you?"

She had agonised over those possibilities every day the last three years. They were despairing words, the vain hope that woke her up in the night, that stayed with her in her waking moments. Why didn't Chakotay act?

_Why did you condemn me out of hand? Why?_

She had been too bemused when Chakotay had burst into her office, her instant relief that he was there to save her, to protect her like he always promised, her unadulterated joy that he'd know instantly what had happened to her had been shattered by his enraged reaction that seemed to flame into the whole room. Mark had been arrogant when he released her, nonchalantly brushing the whole incident off so that Chakotay could imagine that it was what she wanted.

_Could he not see?_

Would he still hate her?

But this time, she decided, her resolve to face him was greater than the old humiliation she always felt when she thought of Chakotay's denunciation.

This time she'd rescue him, then force him to listen to her side of what had happened. She would hold his face with both her hands so tightly he couldn't look away, and she'd make him listen. She would explain what Mark had done to her, that it really was not what Chakotay had imagined. She'd explain about the punishment they dealt Mark, about Ciarán...

Ciarán...

Who looked so like Chakotay he could never in creation deny that her son was his. Ciarán with his dimples and his bright laughter that rang about the grounds of their Indiana home. Ciarán was her joy, her reason she got up every morning and thanked the spirits that she had something - someone - to live for.

Yet, even at such a young age, Ciarán needed his father. He needed to be lifted on his daddy's shoulder, to be tucked in and read to in the evenings. Ciarán needed to be told of his history, to know that the sky spirits watched over him, to know that a tribe called the Rubber Tree People existed whose tattoo graced the brows of his father, grandfather, great-grandfather.

_She_ needed Chakotay.

She needed him like her very breath. She'd loved him hopelessly all those years on Voyager, loved him now still.

If he listened, would he tell her why he could not act? If he listened, would he tell her still loved her as he'd loved her before that fateful day? If he listened, would accept that Ciarán was a part of him?

Her commbadge beeped.

"Admiral, you're wanted on the bridge," Commander Ennis Baydon said.

"Thank you. Janeway out."

When she entered the bridge, she looked at Harry Kim first.

"We're within visual range, Admiral," Kim said.

"On screen!"

The vessel appeared, five thousand meters dead ahead. It looked large and cumbersome.

"Low level phaser banks, weakened shield systems, no torpedoes," droned Rollins' voice. "This is a freighter, Admiral."

"The signal is very strong, Admiral. The prisoners are on the vessel."

"B'Elanna, isolate the life signs using the Melvech - "

"I'm on it, Admiral. There are seventeen crew of the Missouri."

"Acknowledged. Harry, open a hail to the captain of the freighter."

The Melvech's captain appeared on the main viewscreen.

"I am Admiral Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. You have seventeen of our people on board your freighter. We will leave your vessel as soon as we have retrieved them."

"You will not see them, Admiral. They are our slaves."

"You are outnumbered. Two more of our vessels are on their way here. Let us conclude this without further loss of life."

Janeway gave a flick of her wrist in Rollin's direction. Without further orders, Rollins left his position on the bridge. Ennis Baydon took over from Rollins.

"We will kill the hostages..." the freighter's captain barked. "We are taking them to our destination or we will kill them if you interfere."

"The prisoners are members of my Federation. We have come to get them. I'd say we have the right to interfere."

"Runak!" the captain shouted to a Melvechian somewhere on the bridge of his ship. "Bring the first prisoner so Janeway can see we will eliminate him right here where all of the Voyagers can witness."

"Captain, I hope you realise you are in a very precarious position here. You will not kill any of our people!"

Before he could answer, they saw several of Voyager's security officers on the bridge of the freighter.

There was a scuffle and shooting on the bridge. Magnus Rollins grabbed the leader and held him to keep facing Janeway.

"Shall I kill him, Admiral?" Rollins asked with a smirk.

Janeway shook her head. "Let him go, Magnus."

She addressed the captain of the freighter. "You have no shields," she began. "We have scanned your weapons systems. They are inferior to ours. Your vessel was not designed for combat and you have only impulse power - "

"You have not heard the last of this, Janeway!" The screen went blank suddenly.

"Captain, all prisoners have been transported to Voyager's cargo bay," Harry interjected.

"Acknowledged."

Once the security officers were back on board Voyager, the Savannah and Orion hailed her.

"We take our leave now, Admiral. We believe Voyager can handle the treatment of the survivors."

"Thank you, Admiral Greaves."

Janeway knew they were on their way to the thirteenth planet in that system to conclude diplomatic relations which Melvech XIII requested, information Chakotay must have possessed when the Missouri was destroyed.

"Harry, open a visual to that ship. On screen."

"Captain of the freighter, we will leave you with your weapons systems and impulse engines compromised. It will take you a while to return to Melvech. Do not mess with the Federation."

The captain looked surly then closed communication abruptly. Kathryn sighed with relief. The rescue had gone better than she'd anticipated. Of the three hundred and seventy crew, only seventeen had survived. It was a tragic event. Grieving would come later.

Now to see the survivors, see Chakotay, return home... She touched Tom's shoulder in the old familiar way of their Delta Quadrant years.

"Tom, let's hightail it out of here. Engage transwarp one, one minute. Then bring us to within range of Deep Space Nine."

"Transwarp...engage..."

The ship jumped to warp.

Her commbadge beeped.

"Doctor to Admiral Janeway."

"Janeway here. What is it, Doctor?"

"I think you should come to sickbay immediately."

END CHAPTER FIVE


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SIX

They looked bedraggled. The Voyager security officers' uniforms were in stark contrast to the torn and soiled garments of the Missouri survivors. That they had survived in the most dire and terror-filled circumstances was apparent to the rescuers. The prisoners had been huddled together in one large bay on the freighter when they were found. Magnus Rollins had to bite his lip to prevent himself from cursing the Melvechians when he saw how severely injured and haunted the Federation crew appeared . Yet when he looked at them more closely it seemed to him that inner strength exuded from them. They were going to be alright, he knew.

One thing that became painfully obvious to the security crew was that there was only one female survivor.

Magnus could only conjecture what the fate of the other female prisoners were. They were doomed even as they survived the original destruction of their ship. His records showed that there had been one hundred and twenty females on board the Missouri. He felt saddened, and could only pray that the gods carried them through their final moments.

Voyager crew have seen all manner of atrocity in the seven years they travelled in the Delta Quadrant.

They were battle hardened Federation functionaries. They kept their cool and went about the rescue in efficient fashion. Yet, their compassion, the way they touched the young ensigns and officers, a kind word here, a reassuring answer there made the ordeal of the USS Missouri survivors worth fighting for. Many were relieved at being rescued. Rollins knew that they'd also be suffused with guilt that they could go home while their captain, senior officers and crew died.

"Am I going home?" one young ensign asked.

"Are we safe now?" were the words of another.

They were given reassurances that they were safe, that they were on the greatest intrepid ship of the Federation and that Admiral Janeway was never going to give up on them.

He'd been looking for Commander Chakotay among the freed crew. Then Magnus noticed two crew who were unconscious, and upon closer inspection went cold when he saw one of them was Chakotay. They had a real emergency on their hands. Chakotay and the Bolian officer looked dead to him. Yet the way they were cradled by their fellow officers, he got the distinct feeling that they thought differently. If anyone in any of the four quadrants could do something for Chakotay and the Bolian lieutenant, Voyager's EMH was the man for the task. He'd just seen the doctor enter the cargo bay and gestured quickly to him.

Adessi Uhura and the EMH arrived in the cargo just as the prisoners were transported there. She noticed immediately that some were cradling two stricken crewmembers who appeared comatose. The medical personnel had jumped into action, treating them on beds that had been set up in the cargo bay. Many of the freed prisoners could hardly walk from the severity of their injuries. Her heart went out to them, and to those who had died.

It was a scene of quiet joy as the patients were helped to their beds.

"Doctor, I think these two need to be in sick bay," Rollins said calmly. "You need to work some miracle here..."

"Commander Chakotay!" the EMH cried out when he saw the condition of the Missouri's first officer.

The EMH touched the Commander's cheek. Although it felt cold, which he knew could have been because of their privation, the skin was still supple. Next to Chakotay lay a Bolian officer, also in a coma.

"Doctor - ?" Adessi asked, her eyes going wide when she realised the unconscious man was Commander Chakotay. The little boy in the picture on Admiral Janeway's desk bore an uncanny resemblance to this man. There was no doubt in her mind that she was looking at the father of Admiral Janeway's son.

Gently, the medical staff guided the crewmen to their beds. She gazed at the Bolian officer, the only female survivor of the atrocities committed against them. Adessi blinked back the tears. Nothing has changed in a thousand years, she thought angrily. There were women survivors of the Missouri crash who most likely died of their injuries in the prison on Melvech. She shuddered, then caressed Lenaria Ogden's cheek. The young Bolian officer was going to need a friend in her time of grieving and healing when she recovered. Right now to the untrained eye Lenaria and Commander Chakotay appeared dead.

Adessi knew of the fantastic exploits in the Delta Quadrant of Voyager's EMH. He was going to perform a miracle on these two officers. How they came to be in that catatonic state, only Commander Chakotay could tell.

There was an untold story here. Adessi could sense it.

Then the doctor spoke quickly as he tapped his commbadge. "Doctor to the medical bay. Lock on to the two unconscious crew and beam them directly to sick bay."

Within seconds the two were engulfed in the transporter beam and dematerialised.

"Doctor!" a young ensign with pitch black hair and tanned skin called from his bed.

"What is it, Ensign?"

"They are not dead! The Melvechians thought they were. Told us to bring them with us."

"I know, Ensign. We will do everything we can to save them."

"Commander Chakotay put them both in a trance..."

"I understand. It is something I thought Commander Chakotay would do. Now relax, the rest of the medical team will tend to you and settle you in your quarters."

"Thank you, Doctor!"

The EMH nodded before turning to Adessi. "Be in sick bay in five minutes," he said before he too disappeared after tapping his mobile emitter.

Adessi turned to the surviving crew of the Missouri. She was sad, sad that only so few survived. She moved to one bed. A senior grade lieutenant lay moaning softly as he tried moving his leg to ease some of his pain.

She touched his shoulder gently.

"I am Adessi Uhura, Lieutenant. You are safe now," she said in her quiet voice.

He looked at her with pain-filled eyes. "My name is Hamid Basha. Please do everything you can for Commander Chakotay. He is a true hero."

"He saved your life?"

"Not mine, but Lieutenant Lenaria Ogden. He was a true inspiration to all of us who endured torture. We survived because of him."

"I think you should tell Admiral Janeway that, okay? You must rest now, please."

"Thank you, for coming for us..."

"You are welcome," Adessi said, smiling gently as she turned to join the doctor in sick bay.

By the time Adessi reached sick bay, the doctor had settled Commander Chakotay on the main biobed. Lenaria Ogden lay on the secondary bed.

"Doctor, what can we do for them?" she asked.

"We treat their injuries first. I'm waiting for Admiral Janeway. This turn of events was unexpected. They are in self-induced comas, Lieutenant. The Melvechians must be using rudimentary instruments if they were unable to detect they were still alive."

"Are you saying that only Commander Chakotay can revive them?"

"In a word: yes. Assist me here, please," he ordered as he placed a cortical stimulator on Chakotay's brow. Adessi assisted ably, noticing that Lenaria Ogden was already fitted with one.

"Left leg fractured femur, tibia-fibula fracture. Right leg, two fractures of the tibia. Three broken ribs, one collapsed lung. Skull fracture, concussion. What have they done to this man?" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Lieutenant Hamid Basha said Commander Chakotay is a hero. He inspired them to try and keep alive."

"My guess is that these two were in a cell together."

"I think so, too. Hamid Basha said Commander Chakotay's hands were tightly gripped around Lieutenant Ogden's hand."

"Did you look at her hand, Adessi? Go and see over there."

Adessi frowned, but walked over to the other bed to look at the Bolian Lieutenant's hand. Lenaria had fewer injuries, was less critically injured. She lay like someone asleep. Her blue skin appeared blotchy, a result perhaps of bruising. She lifted Lenaria's left hand and gasped softly. On the back she could see clear indentations of fingers of a larger hand. Deep bruising occurred there. Did Chakotay grip her hand so tightly? Why? This was not the soft caress of solace. It was much deeper, as if he willed the young Lieutenant to journey with him to an altered state.

How often did they have to fight off the guards that Commander Chakotay had to resorted to this?

Adessi walked back to the main instrument console area and returned with a dermal regenerator. Very gently she began to regenerate broken skin, easing away the deep bruising over Lenaria's hands, arms and legs, her cheek and forehead.

Lenaria look peaceful, not like someone the Melvechians believed to be dead.

_What happened in your cell? _

"What did Commander Chakotay do?" she asked the comatose woman softly. "In what realm are you dwelling right now, Lenaria Ogden of Bolarus IX?"

At that moment, Admiral Janeway rushed through the sick bay doors.

The moment the doors slid open, Kathryn already knew the patient on the main biobed was Chakotay. She recognised the tan, the dark hair and as she stepped closer, the tattoo. Her heart pounded as she neared the bed, the old painful throbbing deep in her bosom refusing to recede.

He looked sick, sick and beaten. The dome did nothing to hide what she knew had to be broken bones, internal bleeding, cracked ribs and collapsed lung. As if the doctor read her thoughts, he lowered the dome. Chakotay's leg was grotesquely bent, like a broken doll's. Her hand instantly covered his. It felt cold, unresponsive to touch. He wasn't breathing, of that she was certain. Yet Chakotay was alive. The reading on the monitors was evidence of that.

What had happened down on that planet, in the prison cells?

"Admiral, " the doctor began, "his injuries are severe. I'm mending broken bones and cracked ribs."

"But?" she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"He is in what I believe to be a self-induced coma. The Bolian patient was found with him in his cell. She too, is in the same coma."

"Can you revive them, Doctor?"

"I can, Admiral, but Commander Chakotay used the ancient chants of his people. If I revive him suddenly, the link will be broken. He might then die. I will have to gradually bring him back."

"And..." Kathryn looked at the patient on the other bed, "her..."

"Lieutenant Ogden is linked to him, Admiral. When he starts waking up, she will wake up. I will, however, keep him sedated in order for his body to heal."

Kathryn nodded. The way she knew Chakotay, he'd want to jump off the bed as soon as he was treated, compromising the healing of his broken bones.

"Admiral..."

"Yes?" she asked without looking up, her eyes fixed on Chakotay's face.

"I do believe they may have been in a death pact. Lenaria Ogden is a Bolian. They believe in assisted suicide - "

"He deliberately induced catatonia?"

"Admiral, we cannot imagine the hardships they endured. Lenaria Ogden is the only female survivor of the prisoners."

Kathryn's eyes closed at the revelation. It left her in no doubt what had happened to them. She took a deep breath, bending down slowly to kiss Chakotay's cheek. No matter what he'd done to her, she was unable to prevent her love from overflowing for him, for the privation he suffered along with the rest of his crew, for the way he must have tried to prevent the guards from barbaric acts.

"I want to be here when he comes to, Doctor."

"Admiral..."

"What is it?"

"I have downloaded the information from the transponder in his ankle. You can view them in the ready room. Usual security clearance."

She'd almost forgotten.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Kathryn walked over to the other bed where Adessi Uhura was still tending Lenaria.

"She looks so peaceful, Admiral, like she's sleeping."

Lenaria Ogden was a beautiful young Bolian woman. Her facial bifurcation the most symmetrical Kathryn had ever seen. Her lips were only slightly parted, as if the last breath she took merely opened them narrowly. Perhaps just so she could sense she was still a living being. Kathryn caressed Lenaria's cheek and closed her eyes, feeling compassion suffusing her. She felt the prick of tears again.

"Yes," Kathryn agreed, "like she's sleeping."

"Lieutenant Hamid Basha said Commander Chakotay was a hero, an inspiration to them all."

Kathryn opened her eyes to gaze at Adessi. "That may be why they are both in this death-like sleep state, Adessi."

"Aye, Admiral. Admiral...?"

"What is it, Adessi?"

"Commander Chakotay...he looks so like your little boy in the picture..."

"If you're wanting to know whether Chakotay is Ciarán's father, the answer is yes. Please, no more questions, understand?"

"No more, Admiral. Oh, this is very romantic!"

By the time Adessi had finished extolling the romance of the decade to be shared with her best friend Noah, Kathryn had reached the sick bay doors, smiling as she imagined Adessi rolling her eyes heavenward.

In her ready room Kathryn studied the data from Chakotay's transponder. It was what alerted the Federation to the Missouri's plight. It was also most likely why Chakotay must have suffered the most torture from the Melvechians. He was their highest ranking officer that survived the destruction of the Missouri. They assumed he had to know what the Missouri was doing in their space.

Melvech Prime was in conflict with its thirteenth planet, a much more peaceful race that would rather use diplomacy to effect peace. She hoped that the Savannah and Orion would conclude relations successfully.

The transponder included military installations, arms caches, armament factories on Melvech. They'd be disabled before the Melvech Prime can engage its thirteenth planet, Kathryn thought. Once they had Chakotay on Voyager, Magnus had seen to it that the information was relayed to the Savannah and Orion. If need be, the Federation would send backup, if that weren't already being done. A stricken homeworld approached the Federation for assistance. Who were they to ignore a cry for help?

"I have you here, on Voyager, Chakotay. All you have to do is wake up and tell me you have forgiven me..."

Ten minutes later, in the boardroom, she gave her senior officers an update. She looked at each of them in turn, her heart swelling with pride. The admirals were right, as usual. Voyager, with her crew and vast experience in the Delta Quadrant, was the best suited to head a rescue mission. Rollins was a more than capable security officer. B'Elanna, Seven of Nine and Harry Kim headed research into transwarp drive. Voyager was the first to be equipped with it. Tom was designing the Federation's latest battle cruiser, an upgrade on the Prometheus. He would captain the Prometheus in the very near future. Ennis Baydon would remain Voyager's first officer and Voyager under the command of Chakotay, if he wanted the ship.

"All seventeen crew are safe on Voyager," she began. "They have been treated for their injuries and assigned to quarters - "

Ennis raised his hand and gave a little cough.

"Admiral, two of the Missouri crew have requested duties on Voyager. They feel they are ready."

"Go ahead, Commander. They need the distraction."

"That's exactly what Hamid Basha and Ensign Kinich said!"

Kathryn nodded, then continued. "Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Lenaria Ogden are in sick bay, in the capable hands of the EMH. Even though they appear dead, they are very much alive. The Doctor will keep me updated. Dismissed."

Lenaria stretched out her hands to her beloved parents.

"I am here, Mother, Father, to join you, for my body is weakened. I can no longer rise against ignominy."

They moved closer to her, their faces kind, loving, their bodies whole. She had herself seen their broken bodies on Bolarus IX, when she knew that they could no longer hold on to life.

"Be safe, dearest Lenaria, to keep our memories alive."

Those were their last words to her.

That is why she knew that she too, had joined them in their realm of the forever after, where only joy and solace reigned. Yet they only stood a small distance away from her, near enough that she could see the expressions on their faces, but not enough that she could touch them with her outstretched hands.

"Why can I not touch you, Mother and Father?" she asked.

"If you do, beloved daughter," replied her father, "you will remain in this realm forever with us."

"Am I not to stay...here? With you?" she asked.

"You have much to accomplish in the realm of the living, my child," said her mother. "The first is to make right a great wrong."

"I do not understand. I asked to be brought here, so that I need not suffer anymore. I do not wish to return."

"Did not someone ask that you trust him, Lenaria?"

She remained quiet while she mulled over the words, 'Will you trust me?' An image came to her, of a man, beaten and broken, who held her hand in his great big hands. He had asked her that question. She had placed her life in his hands. She trusted him, his kind, fierce face blending into her memory.

"Yes...yes," she replied. "Then I am still in my own realm?"

She saw her mother and father smile gently, shaking their heads, their hands folded in front of them, like the monks she had seen on a distant world. Why did her heart suddenly begin to beat in a comforting rhythm? She was with them, only briefly, before returning to the world.

"He has saved your life, Daughter. Rejoice. Return now. We shall wait for you..."

Then they slowly moved away from her, floating further and further until they appeared only as a faint mirage in the distance, until they were no more...

She reached one last time with outstretched hands.

_Do not leave me now..._

But already it seemed that she was waking to another realm. It scared her, this new, yet old familiarity.

Lenaria opened her eyes slowly, staring up and blinking at the bright light above her head. Bright light? There was no sky, no light that she could discern day or night. Light was muted, soft, so soft on her eyelids that she wanted to remain bathed in it.

"Where am I?"

"Do not be alarmed. You are safe now, on the Federation vessel Voyager," replied a kind voice.

She turned her head and stared into the eyes of a tall, dark woman in Starfleet uniform.

"I am Lieutenant Adessi Uhura," the officer said, a gentle smile transforming her features.

"I am safe? Did I not die?"

"No, indeed, you did not die, Lenaria. See over there?" Adessi moved so that Lenaria could see the main biobed on which lay a man. She frowned.

"Is that not - ?"

"Commander Chakotay, yes. He saved you."

Lenaria was quiet a few seconds, digesting Adessi's words. Then, "He asked me to trust him."

"He did? That is something I think Commander Chakotay say."

"Why is he so still...did he die?"

"He is alive, Lenaria. Doctor is keeping him sedated to treat his extensive injuries."

"I asked him...I asked him to -to..."

"What, Lenaria?"

But her eyes had begun to droop again. She was tired, so tired...

"Who is the Commander of this vessel?" she managed to ask, remembering how Commander Chakotay told her they would be rescued by someone special.

"Admiral Kathryn Janeway."

"Please, please, I must speak with her..."

She could no longer hold off the tiredness and closed her eyes, feeling the swirling mists of sleep beginning to engulf her.

Lieutenant Uhura gazed down at Lenaria and smiled. She would ask the doctor to keep Commander Chakotay sedated while Lenaria lay sleeping. It seemed she had something important to say to Admiral Janeway when she woke up.

Kathryn Janeway stared at the face of the EMH on her vid-com.

"Lieutenant Ogden is awake?"

"Yes. She wanted to speak with you alone, Admiral," the EMH said. "She has slept fitfully and has recovered."

"Chakotay?"

"His injuries were too severe. He has deep concussion. I am keeping him in this state to stabilise him before he emerges from his coma."

"Thank you, Doctor."

She closed communication. She had come off Alpha shift, with Voyager cruising towards Deep Space Nine. It gave her enough time to collect her thoughts on what she'd say to Chakotay when he woke up. But first, Lenaria Ogden wanted to speak with her.

She got up and headed for the turbolift. Sick bay suddenly seemed so far away.

Adessi looked up when the sick bay doors opened and Admiral Janeway entered.

"The Admiral's here, Lenaria," Adessi said to her patient who was sitting up on the biobed.

"Thank you. You will not stay?"

"The doctor has ordered all medical personnel out of sick bay. You need not fear anything, okay? Good luck!"

"I am suddenly afraid."

"Of Admiral Janeway? No, she is the kindest person who breathed in four quadrants! You'll be fine."

When Adessi moved towards the sick bay doors, she nodded to Kathryn before she hurriedly made her exit.

END CHAPTER SIX


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kathryn walked up to the biobed. Lenaria Ogden seemed to have her heart in her expressive eyes as she waited for Kathryn to reach her. Kathryn noted how the young Bolian's hands rested on her lap, the fingers trembling.

Lenaria Ogden looked about to burst into tears when Kathryn stood next to her and touched her hand.

"You wished to see me, Lenaria Ogden," Kathryn said softly, taken by the Missouri officer's apprehensive bearing.

"Admiral Janeway?"

"That I am," Kathryn answered kindly.

Lenaria turned her gaze away from Kathryn, to rest on the figure of Chakotay, now with the dome down. Her eyes softened, a little tender smile breaking the apprehension.

"We were thrown in a cell together. I am alive today, Admiral, because of Commander Chakotay."

"He saved your life?"

"Most of our colleagues died. The women...the women were - " Lenaria remained pensive a second. "They had no chance, Admiral. None. My best friend, I heard her screams until I heard her no more."

"But Chakotay kept you alive."

"Yes. He suffered much, trying to protect me. Sometimes, the spirits of my people help me, I wanted the guards to take me and punish my body until I was dead. Commander Chakotay had so many broken bones already, yet he fought two guards, sometimes three, threatened to kill them if they didn't let go of me. I wanted to be dead so he didn't have to suffer so."

Kathryn didn't have to wonder at the nature of the torture, the mindless, callous rapes of the prisoners. That only seventeen survived the harsh prison conditions spoke of their courage.

"Why, Lenaria, did he fight so hard?"

"Because of you, Admiral."

"Because of me?"

"Sometimes the Commander sank into unconsciousness. Then he'd wake up, calling out a name. Yours."

"He dreamed...of me?"

"I do not think it was a pleasant dream. He woke up those times, and after calling out your name, I sensed his loss."

"Did he speak of this loss, Lenaria?"

This time Lenaria's eyes filled with tears.

"I asked him to tell me about this Kathryn whose name issued from his lips with so much pain and love. Then he said, "Kathryn is lost to me..." I knew it was presumptuous of me, but I thought if he talked to me, he'd at least keep awake so that when the guards came..."

"Things happened, you must understand."

"I think, Admiral, that Commander Chakotay spoke of something he did wrong?"

Kathryn's hope soared when she heard this. She had dreamed of hearing that Chakotay's attitude towards her had changed. But there must have been something, a trigger of a memory that kept him going.

"There is more, isn't there? Is that why you wished to speak with me?"

Lenaria gazed at Kathryn for several seconds before she suddenly burst into tears. Kathryn, alarmed, reached for her. Lenaria flung her arms about Kathryn, weeping sorrowfully. Kathryn comforted the young woman, feeling her own eyes fill with tears. Lenaria's heartache touched her, made her as sad for things lost, for the pain they suffered.

When Lenaria's sobbing subsided, she sat up again. Kathryn waited for her to speak again.

"Bolians believe in assisted death," she said quietly.

"I know."

"When the torture and assaults became too much at the last, knowing the Commander could no longer fight, I asked that he assist me in my suicide. He carried a d'k tahg which he never used. Said if he killed the guards, they would come for me and - and rape me till I died, like my friends."

"What did he say?"

"He would never forgive himself if he couldn't protect me with his life - "

Kathryn nodded solemnly. Something was very strange in Lenaria's account of their experiences in the cell. She knew by now that Chakotay had put them both a coma-like state, most likely through his tribal chanting.

"But you both were unconscious - "

"I do not understand, Admiral. All Commander Chakotay asked was that I trust him."

This time Lenaria smiled, the tears in her eyes adding to her allure.

"I saw my departed parents in the realm where I dwelled for a while. I thought I was dead. Commander Chakotay, I think he has never forgiven himself for what happened in your past, Admiral. He needs you, I think."

Kathryn smiled. "I am hoping we can resolve things that happened so that we - "

"Can be bonded, like my parents were?"

"Your parents were bonded?"

"Aye, Admiral. On Bolarus IX where they were together breathing their last."

Lenaria's words sounded wistful. Kathryn thought about Will Riker and his Deanna Troi who were bondmates. She had always wished she'd have that with Chakotay - an everlasting, abiding devotion to one another. One that would not break under strain. She gave a deep sigh.

"When I dwelt in that realm, my parents told me that I must return to the world."

"Why did they tell you that?"

"To correct a great wrong, they said. It had to do with Commander Chakotay, that you reunite with him. Then he will find rest for his soul. Can that be true, Admiral?"

"Yes, it can. We can be bonded again."

The EMH came online and marched towards them.

"I see our patient is sitting up and recovering."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Lenaria smiled, like someone unused to expressing an emotion of joy. It would take a while, Kathryn thought, for the remaining crew of the Missouri to return to normalcy. A long while.

"Well Lenaria, my aide Lieutenant Adessi will be tending to your needs. You are going home."

Kathryn stroked the back of Chakotay's hand. His leg that had been so grotesquely bent was now straightened and healed. The colour had returned to his face. Even his tattoo looked more defined, yet he lay in a deep sleep, just barely breathing. She blinked several times when tears threatened to undo her.

"When, Doctor?" she asked.

"Lieutenant Ogden woke up when I completed the first phase, Admiral. When Commander Chakotay is ready, I will inform you. You need to rest."

"Tell me how I can rest when so much depends on what comes out of his mouth when he wakes up?"

"You heard Lenaria Ogden. I don't think Commander Chakotay hates you. Not anymore, at least. Better still, I don't think he ever hated you."

"That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you, Doctor."

"You asked. Let me remind you, the Commander's catatonia was inspired by his deep spirituality. I cannot force him awake, you must understand."

"Well, then I'll wait here. You can go offline, Doctor."

"Fine. Let Lieutenant Torres know I am due for a systems maintenance or I shall degrade completely and throw up on you all."

Kathryn couldn't help but smile at the EMH's consternation at not being in control of himself. When he vanished in a huff, she turned her attention to Chakotay. They were alone in sick bay now. Lenaria Ogden had been assigned her quarters and had wanted to do some duties on the ship. But Kathryn had been adamant that she rest and reflect on the things that had happened to them. Lenaria was in need of counselling, but Kathryn suspected that much of the counselling had been done by Chakotay himself, by the very essence of his character, his leadership and his refusal to die and his intense desire to protect a young Starfleet officer from certain shame and eventual death. Thinking about Chakotay's contribution alone should bring Lenaria a measure of peace.

Lenaria's parents died during the Dominion War on Bolarus IX. Kathryn understood that she had one living relative. At least that would give the young Bolian a sense of family, belonging and homecoming.

Kathryn sighed. She really was tired, hadn't slept properly since she kissed Ciarán goodbye at their Indiana home. She was ready to do battle with Chakotay once he woke up.

"What about you, Chakotay?" she asked softly. "Will you understand and forgive me? What will you tell me when you wake up here?"

She caressed his arm gently, thinking about their last days on Voyager. Her joy had overflowed when they were shunted into the Alpha Quadrant, the idea of being home thrust so suddenly upon them that she spontaneously hugged him and blurted "I love you." He'd been romantically linked to Seven of Nine at the time and the moment she blurted how she felt she'd tried to bite back her unguarded cry of love. But his response...

Kathryn felt the old desire coursing through her thinking about the way he responded to her then. Why, it was as if the Borg never happened in his life. "Seven," he'd said that day, "is an artless romantic who believed herself in love with me."

She'd been so afraid. Chakotay had lifted her high up in his arms and his eyes... They had gleamed darkly and he'd held her tightly to him. She thought he'd never let her go as he murmured words of endearments to her.

All because she admitted her need of him.

She felt her eyes filling with tears. So much had happened since then. So much!

"I love you," she whispered in desperation as she lay her head against his arm, feeling the first of the silent tears spilling from her eyes.

And it was that he saw her and she held the hand of a little boy. His father stood behind them, with a smile that caused long creases in his cheeks.

"I wish to be with you," he told his father.

"You are not ready for this realm," said Kolopak. "Return and your life will be fulfilled, my son."

"How can I return? I am the cause of her weeping. I am the cause of the sadness and the longing of her heart. My wrong is great against her."

"How have you wronged her?"

"By not understanding. I have been a fool."

"Do you not know that she has forgiven you from the beginning of time itself?"

Chakotay's gaze remained fixed upon his father, the man of great wisdom, greater than he himself could ever attain. He understood that he did not have any reason to doubt his father's wisdom, yet something held him back.

"What is it, Cha-ko-tay?" Kolopak asked.

"I need to accept her without any conditions, Father, because the impetus must come from the wellspring of my heart. It cannot be because of you."

"Without condition. Can you do that, Chakotay?"

"Yes."

"Then you are ready, my son. The spirits be with you in this hour. Look, she beckons..."

Chakotay moved towards her and took her hand, gripping it tightly in both his hands.

"I will protect you forever. I ask that you trust me."

Her face broke into a smile and he thought that he witnessed tears that reminded him of sparkling diamonds.

"I trust you..."

Awareness returned slowly. At first there was a haze, as if he had stared into a great distance and figures appeared like mirages.

There was silence. It was a silence that was not discordant or that filled him with trepidation. Not the silence before a great storm that made his heart pound in the expectation of fear or courage.

It filled the air around him, bathing him in velvet softness that invited only peace. He liked the silence. He could listen to it and hear in the stillness celestial music that only a Higher Being could have bestowed on men and women.

Yes, it was the silence of which he became aware.

Then there was the light. Not the searing brightness that hurt his eyes and bent his eyelids inwards so that his eyeballs hurt from the pressure. Nothing like that. Not light that entered when a door opened and engendered restlessness. This new brightness stole upon him so quietly that he only belatedly registered that it felt peaceful around him.

Then there was movement, the movement of gentle breathing on his chest, a sensation that he must be lying on his back. Was the breathing his own? he wondered. Did he breathe and the rise and fall of the calming rhythm affected something else? Someone else?

_Open your eyes, my son..._

He was slow to comply, his eyelids heavy, loath to open. Yet, inexorably, they part. They had to. Life demanded that he do so.

And it was that the first sensation of waking was not the light above him, or the discovery that he was on a starship, or the soft celestial music or even the breathing that brought him from the depths.

It was that his hand lay clasped in the hands of her...

He had dreamed of her, and in his dreams she forgave him, she of the golden hair, the smile that curved her mouth, the eyes that seemed to invoke trust. She was his beginning, his future, his life, his end. And as quietly as the silences and the light stole upon his awareness, so had every reason to hate her evaporate as if it had never been there.

He spent three years being angry.

He had to tell her, about her eyes that day, three years ago.

It seemed Kathryn sensed he was with her, for she moved, and slowly lifted her head. Recognition was instant, a gentle, tentative smile. Her eyes were kind, beloved, just as they had been before everything happened that he caused in separating them.

"Chakotay...?"

She waited an eternity it seemed. All he was aware of was his hand gripped tightly in her hands, the air of waiting.

Then he spoke in a hoarse voice.

"I have a son."

She only became aware that he had woken up when she felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, as if someone had suddenly blown air into his lungs. There was a soft gasp.

His hand was still gripped tightly in hers and she felt unable to release her hold. How was it that everything she had wanted to tell him, that her resolve to clasp his face with her palms to make him listen all crumbled in the way he looked at her?

For was it not the way she had dreamed hopelessly for three long years? That he look at her with his eyes clear, devoid of the raging hatred he'd subjected her to?

Hope flared like an exploding star in her bosom, coursing through her body and touching every nerve ending.

"Chakotay?" she whispered his name.

She waited. She felt a sudden apprehension, a fear that the look in his eyes could not mean what she hoped.

Then Chakotay spoke.

"I have a son."

"Yes," she said with a sob.

His eyes closed slowly as he absorbed the information. He gazed at her again, lifting his hand to touch her cheek.

"I have done you a grave injustice, Kathryn. What happened to you... Asking forgiveness can never eradicate what I had done to you."

Kathryn frowned. He couldn't possibly have been told by anyone except herself and the EMH what Mark had done to her.

"You know?"

"A - A look in your eyes the moment I entered your office..." Chakotay squeezed his eyes shut as the memory of that day assailed him. "It haunted me for three years, yet I could not give heed to it, for I allowed my rage to consume me, and it became a dark veil through which I could not see. It - it was only when - "

"You were thrown in a cell with Lenaria Ogden..."

"Spirits, Kathryn! Forgive me!"

How could she not raise herself from the chair and embrace him so desperately? How could she not feel his tears soak into her uniform? He wept a long time, his shoulders shuddering as the sobs wracked his emaciated frame.

What was forgiveness if she couldn't gift the wrongdoer with such a blessing? Yet in her heart she had never thought about pardoning him, because all of her despairing thoughts had been about trying to understand what he had seen that day. She believed that men and women could become immobile with fear or shock, the impulse to act delayed until the moment to act had passed. While some viewed it as cowardice, there had to be the human failing of the absence of movement to save the day.

She realised now that Chakotay's self-imposed torment was about not acting, that he couldn't save her. She wanted to believe that so fervently.

When it seemed that Chakotay had calmed, she released him gently. He would not let go of her hand and continued to gaze deeply into her eyes.

"Lenaria told me that you refused to let her die or to help her die," she said softly.

He closed his eyes briefly before looking at her again.

"Only then I began to understand why I fought like a demon to protect her. That first day, when I knew they wanted her, I saw her eyes, fearful and pleading. It was brief; I could have missed it. I realised that was what I saw in your eyes that day, that Johnson had violated you. I wouldn't let them touch Lenaria, Kathryn. They broke my body, but I vowed to protect her."

Kathryn would tell him later about the other Missouri crew, how they too, fought in vain to save their female colleagues. They were fraught with guilt that they couldn't fight like their Commander to the bitter end.

"You suffered extensive injuries trying to save Lenaria Ogden."

"Then it was that I understood fully what happened to you, Kathryn."

"I tried many times to imagine that that was how you processed what you saw, that your good reason succumbed to your rage. Then I was always so afraid to contact you, and tell you about Ciarán - "

"Ciarán?"

She smiled brightly for the first time, bent over to kiss him on the lips. When she stood back, she had tears in her eyes again.

"Our son, Ciarán Kolopak..."

"Does he look like his mother?"

"A little. But mostly he takes after his daddy. Black hair, tanned skin and the most adorable dimples."

Chakotay became agitated and tried to sit up on the bed, but Kathryn pushed him gently down again. He still needed rest. A lot of it.

"My son..." he murmured before is face creased and a single tear rolled down is cheek. "I missed so much of his growing."

"He knows you. I've made holovids and taken pictures of him. You will see them soon."

Chakotay nodded.

As if a sudden thought struck him, his eyes blazed with the old fire in them.

"What happened to that low-life Johnson who couldn't keep his eyes off you?"

"I will tell you everything later. Meanwhile, Doctor's orders. You are to stay here another twenty four hours - "

"I am on Voyager," he said, realisation dawning before his eyes closed and he fell into a deep, natural slumber.

END CHAPTER SEVEN


End file.
